


Penance

by Slwmtiondaylite



Category: Star Trek: 2009
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Based on, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slwmtiondaylite/pseuds/Slwmtiondaylite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a young cadet that sees something he thinks he understands. But he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Figures Under a Weeping Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Plot holes abound. Watch your step...
> 
> * * *
> 
> Based upon the film _Atonement_ , written by Christopher Hampton (based upon the novel by Ian McEwan) and directed by Joe Wright.
> 
>  _written for the LJ community Reel_startrek, Round Two_

  
____spacer____

 **PART ONE  
**  
 _INTERPRETATIONS_

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE  
**  
 _TWO FIGURES UNDER A WEEPING TREE_

 _  
_

* * *

 _  
_

"What do you think it would feel like to be someone else?"

Kirk heard the gentle thud of a PADD settling on the grassy ground and turned his head to his right, away from the bright Californian sky that he had been gazing upon as he lay on his back.

Uhura stared at him bemusedly, her PADD she had been studying intently held loosely in her hands.

He gave her a flirtatious smile and her eyebrow arched gracefully.

They weren't necessarily close friends. They weren't even friends, really. In fact, Jim Kirk could easily say, as much as it pained him to admit, she barely tolerated his presence. And her opinion of him had not changed since that fateful night three years ago when they met in a bar in Iowa.

Maybe he shouldn't have grabbed her breasts.

But, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

"Really?" she asked, incredulously. Her hair, tied tightly in its customary ponytail, was draped across her shoulders and down her back as she lay on her stomach, her skirt riding up her thighs tantalizingly, revealing her chocolate brown skin he ached to touch.

Kirk allowed his mind to wander to a daydream he often frequented. The daydream where they were lying in the grass here together and her smiles and laughter were reserved just for him and weren't given in contempt. It was a bittersweet torture he had created for himself when he ruined any chance for her to actually look at him the way he saw in his daydreams. It was for her and her alone that he was willing to forego his free lifestyle of casual companionship and one-night stands to engage in a serious relationship. And her flesh, teasing him, was distracting. He ached.

Kirk forced his wandering gaze to return to her face when she began speaking again.

"You come over here, invade my personal space and interrupt my studying to ask me, what? If I wanted to be someone else?"

He laughed and turned his head to gaze at the sky. "Actually, I asked how you think it would _feel_ to be someone else. Not if you wanted to _be_ someone else. See? Totally different."

His eyes drifted back to her and he caught her rolling her eyes at him. She was clearly annoyed. This didn't bode well for him.

She sighed loudly and dramatically. "I don't know. Never really thought about it. Now, will you please leave? I have an exam in my next class and I'd really like to pass it."

Kirk rolled over onto his side to face her, propping his head up with his hand. "Come on, Uhura. Work with me here. Besides, you'll pass your test. You always do."

She gave a small genuine smile. A huge victory for him.

"Surely you've thought about it." He was antsy. Bored. And desperately wanted her to play along with him, even if it was only for a few minutes.

She released another sigh. "If I play along, will you leave me alone?"

Kirk smiled coyly. "Sure thing. And I'll even stop asking for your first name...Bethany." He had no intention doing either.

"Not even close."

"Not even a tiny little hint?" Kirk begged, the smile on his face growing wider. He knew he was pushing it, but he loved getting her riled up. She was gorgeous when she was mad. Her eyes shone brighter. Her cheeks grew flusher. Her chest heaved. His mind drifted to other scenarios he would love to see her in and he closed his eyes, willing himself to come back to the present.

"No!"

"All right. All right." He held his free hand out in mock surrender.

There was a brief moment of silence before she answered. "I suspect it would depend on who you imagined yourself to be. It might be cooler. Or it might be more miserable. But...it's a pointless game that won't change anything, no matter how much you want it to be, no matter how much you want to imagine yourself as someone else. And then, there's the question of how would it feel looking like someone else or being someone else. Because, really, they're two completely different things. Like, I could imagine how it would feel to look like Leonard. People would definitely treat me differently. I wouldn't be hit on by guys _all_ the time." She stared pointedly at him. "I'd be treated with the respect that comes with being a member of the medical profession. But if I imagined what it would feel like to _be_ Leonard...I wouldn't want to be him. He carries so much pent-up anger. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to feel so hateful all the time. How he's so sad all the time. So, no, I wouldn't want to feel like him."

Kirk rolled his eyes at her overly critical analysis of his fun little game.

"And where is Leonard, anyway? I thought you two were glued together at the hip," Uhura suddenly asked.

Kirk shrugged nonchalantly. "He got called into the clinic or something. Something about be treated respectfully because he's a doctor." Kirk's attention was drawn to a form calmly making its way across the large courtyard. "Anyway, I think it's fun to imagine being someone else. I used to do it all the time when I was a kid. I'd imagine being that kid who had the perfect family – a mom who was home and a dad who was alive – I'd imagine being that someone who could hold your interest long enough to get a date."

Uhura sighed nervously and looked elsewhere, anywhere. "Kirk. I told you –"

"That you're not interested. Yeah, I know. Sorry. What can I say? I don't believe in no-win scenarios." He looked at the passing students and faculty members before them. "But, I mean, really, could you imagine what it'd feel like being that guy." He gestured to a passing officer with a nod of his head.

Uhura followed his gaze and saw Starfleet's only Vulcan – well, half-Vulcan – walking with his hands behind him back, moving gracefully towards his destination. "You mean, Commander Spock?"

"Yeah. All work and no play. Could you imagine what it would feel like to be a walking calculator? How boring that would be? No. Scratch that. You wouldn't feel anything, would you?" Kirk laughed and watched Spock freeze in his progress to look briefly at them. He couldn't really be sure, but the Vulcan's rigid posture suddenly seemed to grow even stiffer, something Kirk didn't think was possible.

Spock's pause was brief and he was walking again quickly, though not as relaxed as before.

"I don't think he's boring." There was a wistful edge to Uhura voice when she spoke quietly, gazing at Spock's rapidly retreating form. "And he feels. He just doesn't show it."

Kirk battled the urge to roll his eyes. "Didn't you use to be his teacher's aide or something? I remember always seeing you two walking around together on campus. Now..." He shrugged. "What happened? You two even talk anymore?"

Uhura dropped her eyes to her PADD. She appeared uncomfortable, fidgeting with her device.

Kirk was surprised by her sudden shift in mood and was about to speak again, to tell her she didn't have to answer if she didn't want to, when she finally did.

"I talk to him. Sometimes. He's...we've just...we move in different circles now. That's all." There was a flutter of emotion in her voice that Kirk couldn't quite place. Was it anger? Sorrow?

Before he had a chance to ask, Uhura was swiftly gathering her things. "I gotta go." She jumped to her feet, her knapsack firmly clutched in her grasp, and darted away from him without a single glance back.

Kirk watched her briefly before heaving a sigh and plopping on his back, gazing at the clouds passing overhead.

Yeah.

Spock had been surprised by his illogical reaction when he saw Cadet Uhura lying in the grass with Cadet Kirk. The sudden onset of intense jealousy was most unbecoming of a Vulcan and he could not explain why he experienced such a sensation. He had no claim on her. She was not his bond mate, much less his companion, and therefore she was free to spend time with whomever she chose, even if it was that insufferable cadet.

No, if Spock was truly honest with himself – and it would be illogical not to be, after all – he simply missed Cadet Uhura's presence in his life. After she had helped him through a difficult and embarrassing time, he had suddenly found himself without an assistant. She had transferred. Without consulting him.

He had been confused. And still was.

And hurt.

Even if he would never admit it. Never vocalize it.

The science building was just across the courtyard from the xenolinguistics building. Oftentimes, as he was aware of her schedule, Spock would do his best to ensure that he would be outside both buildings when her classes let out.

So far, he'd been unsuccessful in catching her.

A brief surge of desperation flowed through him. He needed to understand why she left her position. Did he do something wrong? That was exceedingly possible, as he often stumbled in his dealings with her, albeit unintentionally.

Or did she simply grow tired of dealing with his detached demeanor? He had been told before, by several other officers, that he needed to behave in a more humanly manner, that his cool behavior was often off-putting. He had never put much stock in the words of his colleagues, but after her resignation, Spock had begun to reevaluate their validity. However, it was difficult for him to behave differently than he was accustomed. He was Vulcan. To behave more humanly, to demonstrate his emotions? It was much to ask. Too much.

During his musings, Spock walked the sidewalk, hands behind his back. Today he was out later than he would have liked, but he had been held up by a student requesting his tutelage. He calculated his chances of seeing Cadet Uhura to be nil, since her class had ended twenty-four minutes and five seconds ago.

As he passed by the side exit of the xenolinguistics building, despondently returning to his office, the door flew open and Uhura rushed out. Spock stopped his movements quickly, lest he collide with her.

She froze before him, her knapsack held loosely in her hand. Her eyes were slightly wider than normal and Spock deduced that she was surprised to see him. But she quickly recovered and stepped forward.

"Beautiful day." She spoke noncommittally, a slight edge of hostility coloring her voice, and she walked past him, not waiting to see if he followed.

"Indeed," he agreed, easily falling into step beside her. He did not know if his following her was acceptable. "Though I do find it somewhat cool." His eyes slid to her form.

She didn't respond and the pair continued to walk down the sidewalk in silence.

Suddenly, taking into account the words of his colleagues, Spock gave into the human tendency for small talk to break the slight awkwardness. "How are you enjoying the book?" he asked, referring to the book he had given her shortly before her sudden departure when she spoke of an interest in Vulcan philosophy. She had not given it back, nor had he asked for it. Perhaps, unconsciously, he was looking to use it as a means of reestablishing communication with her.

She glanced at him. "What? _The Teachings of Surak_?" She shrugged. "Not at all." She stopped quickly and moved in front of him, causing him to halt. "I think I'd rather read the Pre-Awakening writings any day." She leaned in slightly and locked eyes with him. "They're much more...passionate."

Spock raised an eyebrow and the two looked at each other intensely for several moments. He was vaguely aware of her moving closer to him. Or perhaps it was he.

Regardless, Uhura suddenly dropped her gaze and stepped away, moving forward once again. "So..." She cleared her throat. "The gala for the Vulcan delegation is tonight."

Spock allowed her to change the topic. "Indeed, it is."

"Will you be attending?" She sidestepped a fellow cadet as they continued to walk past the xenolinguistics and science buildings.

"I have been informed by Captain Pike that my attendance is mandatory. Though my time would be much better spent in the lab."

She gave a small smile, which surprised Spock, though it was not unwelcomed. "Your parents will be there, right?"

"Regrettably, yes." He did not elaborate. He knew she was aware of the difficulties he was having with his father.

Uhura looked at him, mouth open in shock. "Commander! I'm surprised at you. If anything, I would think you'd be glad to see your mother."

He was pleased with her sudden banter; it reminded him of their previous time together. "Typically, yes. But she has already informed me that she shall attempt to persuade my father to converse with me. I am not...looking forward to it."

They reached a large aged willow tree. Spock followed Uhura from to the tree, stopping under its sweeping branches.

Uhura dropped her knapsack on the ground, leaned against the trunk and looked at Spock. "A little birdie told me you were going to accept the position as Chief Science Officer on the _Yorktown_." She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

Spock's brow quirked at her word choice, but he did not comment on it. He understood her meaning. He also did not ask her how it was that she became aware of this information as he knew she was resourceful. "The idea is appealing to me, I will admit. It would only be a temporary assignment. After construction on the _Enterprise_ is complete, Captain Pike has offered me the position of First Officer."

"Two years in outer space?"

"That was cited as a stipulation, yes."

"Why can't you remain dirtside?" She looked at him earnestly.

Spock's brow furrowed as he contemplated her line of questioning. "I do not desire to do so. I joined Starfleet with the intention of making scientific discoveries –"

"You could do that here."

Spock regarded her for a moment. "I do not believe that would be in my best interest."

"No, of course not." There was that edge of hostility back in her voice, surprising Spock. She turned away from him, heaving a heavy sigh.

Spock tilted his head to the side and regarded her. "I have upset you."

Uhura laughed harshly. "You could say that."

Spock looked around them, scouring the grounds for anyone paying attention. Satisfied that they were alone, he stepped closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Nyota. Please, explain what I have done wrong. You have been avoiding me for two months and thirteen days. Please –"

She spun around to look at him. "I haven't been avoiding you. You made it perfectly clear two months and thirteen days ago –" She spit the time out harshly – "after I helped you with your...problem..." She broke off her statement with an awkward whisper, eyes glancing around, looking at anything but him.

Spock stood up straight, satisfied that he now knew the source of her anger. "You are speaking of your assistance with my _Pon Farr_."

Uhura blushed fiercely. Her voice a meek whisper. "Yes."

"Had I not been proficient enough in expressing my gratitude for your sacrifice?"

Her eyes grew moist and she turned away from him again. "It's that. Right there."

"I do not understand."

"Of course, you don't." Her voice grew louder. Dangerously so, increasing the likelihood of their being seen.

Spock glance around them once more for potential eavesdroppers.

"It wasn't a sacrifice for me. I didn't do it out of some twisted sense of obligation to my professor. I did it because –" She broke off, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter, I guess."

"Nyota."

She didn't say anything else, turning back to her knapsack.

Spock moved quickly, bending down to recover her bag before she did. "Allow me to help you."

"Spock, I'm all right!" She grabbed the strap of the back and tried to take it from Spock. "I've got it."

He tightened his grip and pulled the bag closer and, in turn, brought her closer to him. "You are emotionally distressed."

She sighed. "You're damn right I'm emotionally distressed. Now let go."

He did not. "Why?"

She pulled the bag harder. "Damn it, Spock! Just let go!"

Surprised by her loud volume and concerned they would draw an unsolicited audience, Spock suddenly released his grip.

Uhura was caught off guard and stumbled backward. Her bag fell from her hand and Spock reached out to catch her, his arms wrapping around her waist.

After righting herself, Uhura immediately stepped away from him and turned around to retrieve her bag. "Damn it!" she exclaimed angrily, dropping to her knees. Her belongings lay sprawled across the ground. Furiously she picked up the scattered PADDs and shoved them forcefully back into the bag.

Spock approached her. "I apologize, Cadet."

She sat up on her knees and looked up at him sadly. "So, we're back to Cadet and Commander? Just like that?"

Unconsciously, Spock moved closer and reached out to cup her cheek tenderly. "Nyota." He did not say anything further, just allowed his emotions to filter through their tentative link and she finally raised her eyes to look at him.

He felt a myriad of emotions emanating from her - a flutter of an emotion he feared naming teased his mind - but was unable to fully comprehend them because she suddenly tore away from his touch, jumping to her feet.

Without another word, she ran.

* * *

Kirk walked leisurely down the sidewalk. He needed to return to his dorm to dress for the evening's lavish event, but he wasn't eager. Playing dress-up was something he had always loathed. But orders were orders and select cadets had been ordered to attend, with admirals citing some desire to show the Vulcans the elite of the elite. As though the Vulcans would be impressed, he thought wryly.

He heard a loud feminine voice in the near distance. She sounded upset, yelling something that he couldn't quite make out. A calm masculine voice followed. Kirk gave a small shrug, deciding that it was probably a lovers' quarrel. And that was precisely why he refused to get involved in a relationship. Even though he was willing to do it all for a certain cadet. If she'd only have him.

As he neared the huge willow tree, he became aware of a couple hovering underneath the sweeping branches. A man and woman. Kirk's eyes grew wider when he saw the woman on her knees before the man, whose back was to him. I couldn't see who he was.

So, not exactly a lovers' quarrel.

Kirk stopped his movements and watched the scene before him. His heart started racing and his nerves started tingling when he noticed who the woman was.

Uhura. Down on her knees, before a man who held her face.

Kirk couldn't see clearly because several bushes obscured his view, but it appeared to him that she was performing...

He didn't allow himself to finish that thought. While, yes, he would admit that he was what several people on campus called him – a playboy – he never once considered doing what he was seeing before him. And certainly not with her. He respected her too much.

Suddenly, he watched her jump to her feet, grabbing her knapsack, and run.

The man watched her go before looking around. Kirk was shocked, his jaw opening, when the man turned to face him and was none other than Commander Spock.

The Vulcan looked at him coldly, uncaringly, before walking away.


	2. A Letter Written from Passion

  
**CHAPTER TWO  
**   
**  
_A Letter Written From Passion_ **

  


* * *

Uhura burst into her dorm room, fuming. She threw her knapsack on the bed, not caring when it skidded across the mattress and landed on the floor on the other side.

The room was a dichotomy of cleanliness and orderliness. Nyota's side was utterly spotless. Books were in their place on their shelves. The bed was made. The floor was clean. Her roommate – Gaila, the green-skinned, red-haired Orion – preferred to leave things wherever they may fall. Clothing was scattered on the floor, books were lying about, open. The bed was in shambles.

Nyota sighed heavily and paced the small length between the door and the bathroom. She felt tears of frustration pricking her eyes but she steadfastly refused to let them fall, even when she was alone. She glanced at the empty bed of her roommate. She could really use Gaila's help dealing with Spock, but the Orion was nowhere in sight.

That wasn't really all that unusual for Gaila. The Orion was notorious for spending her free time in the rooms of her many male companions. And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because no matter how much Uhura wanted to talk to her about Spock, she couldn't. She couldn't risk her future and his career by revealing their tryst with anyone, even her best friend.

Uhura paused in her pacing, running her hands through her hair and pulling it free from its confines. She heaved another sigh and hurled herself into the seat of her vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror. There were times when she quite readily envied Spock and his ability to suppress his emotions, even if it hurt those who cared about him when he did.

How dare he. How dare he do this to her. He was so frustrating.

She wanted to scream.

How dare he make her feel this way and then dismiss it as nothing more than a passing fancy. She cringed whenever she recalled the morning after his Time. When he was so casual. So...uncaring. As though it had meant nothing. Just biology forcing its will upon him.

She sighed heavily. It would do no good to fret about him.

She reached out and grabbed her nail polish. Tonight, they would be red.

* * *

Kirk wasn't sure how long he'd been pacing. He'd been debating with himself on how to deal with what he'd seen. And he was still nowhere near an answer. He wasn't sure what he saw, really. With a theatrical sigh, he threw himself on his bed.

He should be getting ready for tonight.

He eyed his closet, sighed, and looked at the ceiling, not wanting to get up. He felt like he had the weight of the world pressing down on his chest. What should he do? He didn't want to be the one responsible for ruining another officer's career over something he may or may not have seen.

But...how many times had he been on same end as Spock? How many times had he had a woman down on her knees before him, pleasing him? He knew a blow job when he saw one. And that?

But most girls didn't run away from him with tears in their eyes afterwards.

He didn't know much about Vulcans – he'd be the first to admit that – but he knew, just like everyone else, that they had some kind of mumbo-jumbo-hocus-pocus ability with their hands and minds. Some kind of telepathy. And Commander Spock was touching her face. Maybe he forced his will upon her. Maybe she didn't have a choice. Maybe –

The door slid open and Bones entered, looking weary. "I've just had the most horrible day." He, as well, lay on his bed across from Kirk.

Kirk grunted an acknowledgment but said nothing more. He continued to stare at the ceiling, debating.

McCoy slid his eyes to his friend. "Well, aren't you gonna ask me what made it so horrible?"

Kirk suppressed an eye roll and glanced at Bones. "What made it so horrible?"

McCoy immediately launched into his diatribe. He had obviously been waiting all day for this moment. "That damn Doctor Puri. I swear he wants to see me out of here. He has no respect for me at all as a member of the medical profession. No respect. He called me to the clinic, claiming there was some kind of emergency. Just some snot-nosed first-year cadet with a cold. And I had to spend the last several hours convincing the patient that's all it was. And you'd think with all our technology and medical advances, we'd have the cure for the common cold by now." Bones looked at Kirk. "And I suppose you've spent your day harassing Uhura? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that she's not interested? Just admit defeat for once in your life and leave the poor girl alone."

Kirk didn't reply.

* * *

Uhura started at herself in the full length mirror. She wore a jet black dress. It was elegant and it suited her well. She turned from side to side, examining her appearance from every angle she could. It was nearly perfect.

She sighed.

It simply wouldn't do.

* * *

It was very rare that Spock allowed himself the human proclivity of pacing. But he did exactly that, pacing the length of his quarters, recalling the incident with Cadet Uhura – Nyota; she couldn't be simply Uhura to him any longer – this afternoon. It appeared that he had grossly misunderstood her actions during his _Pon Farr_. How could he have behaved in such a cavalier manner?

He sighed.

Halting, Spock placed his hands behind his back. He really should be getting prepared for the evening's gathering. His parents were due to arrive within the hour. He needed to meditate, to analyze his emotions and Nyota's. He needed to parse the emotions, categorize them, and label them. But the incident that occurred this afternoon weighed heavily on his mind, occupying him. "Computer, record message."

"Recording," the computer sounded monotonously.

"To Cadet Uhura. I apologize for my inconsiderate behavior this afternoon." He paused his words, mulled them over in his head. They were much too impersonal. "Computer, erase."

"Message erased."

He returned to his pacing. He would never confess to being an expert in human emotions – particularly those of the human female – but he couldn't deny that he had upset her. That was clear. She wanted something more from him, something he wanted as well.

But rules were rules. And the rules were very clear in this instance.

She was a student. And he was a teacher. _Her_ teacher.

He understood perfectly well the logic behind this regulation. He didn't doubt that logic either. It made perfect sense, created to prevent favoritism. And therefore any possible romance he desired with Miss Uhura was simply out of the picture.

But the sight of her on her knees before him rose unbidden in his mind. And he recalled the feel of her, the warmth and softness of her supple flesh. The taste of her.

He desired her. Wished to make her his. He wanted –

Her _former_ teacher, he argued with himself.

He should not be allowing this line of thought. It was unbecoming of a Vulcan to behave this way, to think such things.

Why didn't he care?

His eyes closed for a moment before he opened them and eyed a nearby PADD on his coffee table.

No.

He moved determinedly to his bedroom, opening his closet and pulling out his dress uniform.

He'd been upset by her sudden disappearance from his life after their time together. And seeing her today... Perhaps her anger towards him was spurned by his behavior that following morning, when the urge had passed and he once more embraced logic.

He carefully laid the uniform on his bed.

A second later, he returned to the living area and picked up the PADD that had taunted him with its presence. He sat on the sofa, the device clutched tightly in his hands.

He didn't think. He couldn't speak the words aloud.

>  _I have dreamt of our time together. I dream of your legs wrapped around my waist, my penis sheathed tightly within your vagina. I dream of your tears. In my thoughts, I hear your cries, your screams and I shiver, knowing they were for me and me alone. I think of copulating with you with a frequency that would alarm any sensible Vulcan and I cannot help but think that perhaps the most logical thing to do is to submit to my desires for you._

Spock looked at what he had written in dismay. Shame briefly flooded his mind, his ears tinged green, and his finger hovered over the delete button.

But he couldn't.

He abruptly returned the PADD to the coffee table and stood up. He had never experienced such an internal conflict of such proportions.

He moved to his desk and grabbed another PADD. With set determination, he wrote once more.

>   
> _Dear Nyota,_
> 
>  _I would not fault your anger at my behavior this afternoon. However, the truth is that I find logic escapes me when I am in your presence. And I find that my emotions control me. I know I should fight them, but I am not sure that is what I desire. I write this letter to humbly beseech you your forgiveness._
> 
>  _Spock_

He set the PADD down on the coffee table next to the other one and returned to his bedroom to dress for the evening.

* * *

Her typically pristine side of the room now bore the signs of an indecisive mind. Dresses were scattered across the floor, the bed. But Nyota sat quietly at her vanity, her mind finally made up.

She wore a red halter-top evening gown. Her hair was in a loose bun, low upon the base of her neck. She reached behind her neck to fasten the pearl necklace. Then she picked up a diamond clip and fastened it to her hair. She rearranged the curls framing her face.

She looked in the mirror, meeting her own eyes. Finally satisfied, she stood, grabbed her clutch, and headed out the door.

* * *

Spock exited his quarters, dressed for the evening. He wore a dress uniform that honored his Vulcan heritage, earthen tones, elegant script of his people embroidered upon his jacket, flowing smoothly. The small PADD was secure in his jacket pocket.

He had no idea how or when he would be able to give Nyota the letter had written, and he felt overwhelmed with his illogical and decidedly human behavior. He could not fully comprehend his actions. He should not have written the note; it was highly unprofessional and he did not know if such a letter would be welcomed. He should not have taken it with him and he should not be contemplating how he was going to give it to her. But he was.

He turned to face the door, reaching for the security lock on the side and engaging it.

"There you are," a feminine voice sounded behind him.

Spock turned. "Mother?"

Amanda Grayson smiled, moving quickly towards him.

Behind her, Sarek trailed. It was painfully clear from the Ambassador's rigid posture that he was present under duress; Spock's mother had forced him to come along. Sarek looked around the hall, gazing at the bland walls, the empty path. He did not appear as though he was eager to engage in conversation with his son.

Spock forced his gaze from his father and back to his mother's smiling and welcomed face. "When did you arrive?"

"Oh, about twenty minutes ago," she replied, glancing back at her husband.

"Twenty-seven minutes and five seconds ago," Sarek offered off-handedly. He still did not meet his son's eyes.

Not that Spock had been expecting him to. He knew he had disappointed his father greatly when he turned down the invitation to study at the elite Vulcan Science Academy. And while his father's cold demeanor hurt – not that he would ever admit it – Spock did not regret his decision. He was...happy where he was. Satisfied.

Amanda sighed, looking at her husband with something akin to disappointment.

Spock met her gaze. "Perhaps I may escort you to the Kelvin Room."

"Of course." Amanda smiled when her son offered his arm. She took it, threading her hand around the crook of his arm. They moved forward and Sarek fell into step behind them.

As they walked down the hall, Amanda spoke, deciding to lead the conversation since it was clear that Sarek would not. "It's been so long since we last spoke."

"Indeed, it has. Six months, three days, and fourteen hours."

Amanda's eyes closed and she leaned into his side. "That's far too long." She glanced back briefly at Sarek. He gave no indication that he was paying attention. She suppressed a sigh. "How are things? Fine?"

"Mother, I have told you that 'fine' is –"

"'Unacceptable.' I know." Her other hand reached over to pat him on the arm. "But try to humor your dear old mother."

"You are hardly old, Mother."

She laughed.

"But, very well. Things, as you put it, are...acceptable. My students are progressing well and many are surpassing my expectations. As for myself, I have recently been offered the position of Chief Science Officer onboard the _Yorktown_ and Captain Pike has already offered me the position of First Officer onboard the _Enterprise_ , when she is completed."

"Oh, that's such wonderful news, Spock!" Amanda exclaimed, proud as any mother. She looked back at her husband. "Isn't that wonderful news, Sarek?"

He said nothing.

Disheartened, she returned her attention to Spock. "I'm sorry, Spock," she said.

"It is no fault of yours, Mother."

They reached the exit to the building and the doors slid open with a gentle swoosh. They exited.

Amanda released a deep sigh. "Oh, how I have missed the cooler weather of Earth."

Finally, Sarek spoke. "You have never told me of your discomfort on Vulcan."

Spock was not all surprised to hear the vestige of concern tinting his father's voice. His father had always held his mother in high regard, placing great importance in her comforts and needs. It was in this regard that father and son still saw eye to eye.

"Oh," she sighed. "It's not that I'm horribly uncomfortable on Vulcan, Sarek. Sometimes I just miss the cool breeze coming off the ocean. The salty sea air."

"I understand." And he was silent once more.

Behind them, rushed footsteps were heard. They were rapidly approaching.

Spock maneuvered himself and his mother to the side of the walkway, giving plenty of room to the rushed passer-by.

The footsteps approached and their owner passed. It was Kirk.

And suddenly, feeling the weight of the PADD in his jacket pocket, Spock was struck with a plan to give Nyota her letter. It was perhaps not the most brilliant of plans and he realized that perhaps he should be the one to give it to her, but he was struck with a very human case of anxiety. He couldn't be certain of her feelings. He could only infer. "Cadet Kirk?" he called out, halting his steps. He felt his parents' gaze upon him, curious.

The cadet stopped and turned around to face him. Spock noted that he seemed uncomfortable.

"Yes, sir?" Kirk asked, standing at attention.

"You are attending the function tonight, are you not?" Spock asked, even though he already knew the answer. The cadet was dressed in his evening wear and had been listed as one of the invitees.

Kirk nodded. "Yes, sir." His eyes would not meet the Vulcan's.

Spock tilted his head. "Are you under duress of any kind, Cadet?"

Kirk's eyes widen. "Excuse me, sir?"

Spock elucidated. "You appear to be distressed."

Kirk straightened immediately. "It's nothing, sir. I'm fine."

Spock cocked his head to the side. Kirk was lying. It was clear. However, it was not any of his business. If Kirk didn't want to say then that was that. "Are you intending to see Cadet Uhura tonight?"

Kirk nodded.

Spock gently released his mother's grasp on his arm and stepped towards Kirk, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the PADD. "Would you please see to it that Cadet Uhura receives this? It is imperative that she does. I would deliver it to her myself if I knew for certain I would be able." This was, at least, a partial truth.

Kirk seemed surprised but shrugged. "Sure." He took the PADD from Spock's outstretched hand and immediately took off, not waiting.

"What was that about, Spock?" Amanda asked.

Spock looked at her. "It is of no major concern, Mother. I was merely seeking to offer my apologies to Miss Uhura."

"Apologies? Whatever for?"

It was Spock's turn to feel uncomfortable. However that feeling was soon overtaken by another newer feeling of absolute horror as he watched the retreating form of Cadet Kirk. He had often heard students speak of moments where they would suddenly recall a forgotten or misplaced assignment. A pause followed by a rapidly increasing heartbeat, echoing loudly in the ears. The stomach clenching painfully. He had never experienced that feeling before now, thanks to his eidetic memory. However in his haste to leave his quarters, Spock had reached blindly for the PADD on his coffee table.

It was the wrong PADD.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He had just handed Kirk the PADD that contained the most visceral words he had ever written. Kirk's name was on the tip of his tongue as he readied himself to call out to the cadet.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't bring attention to his grave error. He was already risking much by simply asking Kirk to deliver the letter. He didn't even know with absolute certainty that such a colorful letter would be appreciated and welcomed by Nyota. And now, with the eyes of his parents upon him, he couldn't call Kirk.

"Spock?" His mother's voice permeated his thoughts.

He looked at her. "I apologize, Mother." He felt his heart race in his side, thinking of the letter now in transit. He took his mother by the arm and continued leading his parents to the Kelvin Room. "Cadet Uhura was my aide. Through a sequence of misunderstandings that were largely my doing, she resigned. I am merely attempting to correct my mistake."

"Her leaving upset you?" Amanda asked.

Spock looked at her briefly, quickly determining how best to answer. "Cadet Uhura was vital to my work. I have found myself –" He was hyperaware of his father's presence and was determined to monitor his words. To admit an emotional attachment, no matter how small, would be unbecoming of a Vulcan. "– unable to adapt my schedule without her assistance."

His mother smiled slightly. "Of course not."

He had a feeling she had already figured out his white lie.

* * *

Kirk walked quickly away, PADD in hand. He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't.

He stopped in the middle of the walkway and looked at the PADD. It was unencrypted. It was too easy.

He quickly convinced himself he was doing this to protect her, possibly save her.

He turned it on. It was a letter directed to Uhura.

He skimmed it quickly, mindful of Spock's slow approach behind him.

His eyes widened.

"... _your legs wrapped around my waist, my penis sheathed tightly within your vagina...your tears...I hear your cries, your screams and I shiver...I think of copulating with you with a frequency that would alarm any sensible Vulcan and I cannot help_..."

He glanced behind him briefly, seeing the Commander and his companions trailing behind him. What did the letter mean? He then berated – chided – himself, he knew what it meant. He wasn't naive, wasn't stupid.

He took a deep breath and all but ran to the gala.


	3. An Illicit Encounter Between Two Lovers

  
**CHAPTER THREE  
**   
**  
_An Illicit Encounter of Two Lovers_ **

  


* * *

Uhura had been in the Kelvin Room for the better part of fifteen minutes. She had initially sought out Spock but had been unable to find him. This had surprised her. She had expected that he would remain true to form and arrive on the dot. But he hadn't. She wondered if he would show up at all. Perhaps their argument would –

No, she chastised herself. He said he was ordered to be here. Therefore he would be here, regardless of anything.

She busied herself with conversation. She had found Leonard amongst the cadets. Though she had lamented his anger and his hatred earlier to Kirk, she liked him. He was intelligent and a true Southern gentleman.

Unlike his best friend, who was just now entering the grand room. Kirk scanned the room and his eyes rested on her and McCoy.

Nyota watched wearily as Kirk approached her. She really didn't feel like dealing with him again today. As he neared, she noted that he didn't seem to be his normal, cocky self. He seemed preoccupied. Worried.

He said nothing to her. He just wordlessly handed her a PADD then dragged Leonard away, speaking to him in hushed tones.

Confused, she looked down at the PADD. She turned it on and was confronted by a note. She read it, and as she realized the writer, her eyes widened considerably. She was loosely aware of Kirk's occasional looks cast in her direction. She felt herself growing warm, her cheeks flushing.

She had thought their time during his _Pon Farr_ meant nothing more to him than a simple means to an end.

She'd been wrong. But for him to write this...and to give it to Kirk to hand to her? She had never thought Spock capable of making such a foolish mistake. And if Kirk had read this?

She looked at Kirk, who spoke animatedly with McCoy. "Did you read this, Kirk?"

He ignored her.

She felt a tinge of panic consume her. If their tryst was discovered? If Kirk reported this to the Academy brass? "Jim! Did you read this?"

She saw his eyes jerk to her for the briefest of moments before returning to McCoy. So he was hearing her. Her heart pounding, her eyes drifted to the entrance of the grand room, where Spock entered, side by side with his parents. They were immediately met by Captain Christopher Pike, who reached for Lady Amanda's hand, bringing it to his lips.

"Jim? Did you read this?"

He glanced at her again then turned his back to her.

She took a deep calming breath and felt a presence behind her. She turned around to find Captain Pike standing before her, having had approached her at some point when she was distracted by the letter.

"Captain Pike, sir." She dropped the PADD to her side quickly, grasping it tightly.

He smiled warmly. "You're Cadet Uhura, right? Commander Spock's aide?"

She floundered for an answer. "Uh, yes, sir. Or I, uh, I was."

He held a hand out in the general direction of Spock and his parents. "Come on. Let me introduce you to Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda."

She hesitated. Not now. "Oh, sir. You don't need to do that."

"Come on. I insist."

She looked in the direction of Sarek and his family. Spock's eyes locked with hers before darting to the PADD she still held in her hand. She couldn't read his carefully composed expression and therefore was at a loss as to what he was thinking.

"I wouldn't want to be an imposition, sir."

"It's no imposition. In fact, Lady Amanda asked to see you."

Her eyebrows shot skyward. "She did?"

Pike nodded. "She sure did."

Finding no other way to politely decline, she nodded her assent and Pike led her to Lady Amanda, Sarek and Spock.

Spock's mother smiled warmly as they approached.

Uhura, for her part, made sure to not look at Spock. She was still reeling from the letter he had given her. She still didn't entirely understand his intentions, writing such erotica. She had hopes, but she couldn't allow them to take control, lest she be disappointed.

However, Spock was quick to address her. "Cadet, I apologize for any inconvenience, but my mother was quite insistent to meet you."

She smiled at Spock's mother. "Oh, it's not any inconvenience, Ma'am."

"Oh, please call me Amanda."

"Of course." And the two women began to speak at length about a variety of topics, ranging from xenolinguistics to Spock.

Uhura had almost forgotten about the PADD she held until Amanda motioned towards it.

"I see you've received the letter."

Uhura jerked her head down, glancing at the PADD. What did his mother know of it? "Oh, yeah. Yes, I did." Surely, she did not know the exact contents. Spock would never –

"I do hope my son apologized for whatever his indiscretion was. He seems quite fond of you."

"I, uh, I wouldn't know about that, exactly." She glanced at Spock, who was currently speaking with his father. He did not appear to be at ease when she heard Sarek say something about obligations to Vulcan. Her eyes locked with Spock's. She saw his eyebrow rise and she jerked her head towards the exit.

He gave her a slight nod.

She returned her attention to Amanda. "Amanda, it was really nice to finally meet you. But, um, if you could excuse me, I need to –" She gestured towards the exit.

"Oh, of course, dear. Go right ahead. And I do hope you and my son can work out your differences."

Uhura gave her a tight smile. "So do I." She gave a small bow and made her way towards the exit.

* * *

Spock waited precisely ten seconds before he gratefully excused himself from his father's side and followed Nyota out the room. She stopped in the hallway once she was certain it was clear. Only then, did she turn to face him.

He stood awkwardly before her, feeling strangely nervous, an experience with which he was not familiar. He could not be certain as to her feelings. He did not know how she received the communication he had given Kirk to give to her. He once again mentally chastised himself for making such a mistake. He cleared his throat uncharacteristically and placed his hands behind his back, deciding to speak first. "It was a mistake. I had allowed my emotions free reign. I do not –"

"Kirk...Kirk read it." She dropped her gaze from his, staring at the floor, at his feet.

Spock had not expected that. The ramifications of such an incident were insurmountable. Those ramifications were precisely why he had tried to put the events of his _Pon Farr_ behind him. He was a professor and she was a student. And Starfleet had very clear rules regarding fraternization between the two. "I see. I admit that I had expected a bit more discretion from Cadet Kirk. Though, perhaps the mistake is rightfully mine. I should have never entrusted another with such a delicate...matter. Also, if I might add, for what good it does, it was the wrong version."

She nodded emphatically, eyes darting around them. "Yes."

"Cadet Kirk...no one was ever meant to –"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head.

They regarded each other quietly for several moments, heedless of the gathering in the room just beyond. Her behavior still did not give Spock adequate information from which to base a conclusive hypothesis of her emotions regarding him.

Suddenly, Spock spoke. "We must speak in private." He turned and walked briskly from the ballroom, not waiting to see if she followed.

She glanced around briefly before trailing after him.

He led her to a nearby administration office. It was dark and he ordered the computer to turn the lights on, adjusting their brightness to twenty-five percent.

Nyota cleared her throat and looked at the ground, unable to look at him just yet. "What was I meant to read?"

"It was more formal, controlled. Romantic. It was much less –"

"Anatomical?" She finally raised her eyes to look at him, a slight teasing look in her eyes.

Spock gave an acknowledging nod. "Precisely."

Tears suddenly appeared in her eyes and she brought her hands up to her mouth. She appeared upset.

Her behavior confused him. He took a step toward her and she backed up, moving further into the dark corner, her back to the large desk behind her.

She watched him.

He continued to move closer, slight hesitation in his steps.

"It's been there for weeks, but I'd been trying to ignore it and then this morning...I was so frustrated with you and with myself, because I know...I know that this goes against so many regulations, but I – I convinced myself that if you took your commission on the _Yorktown_ , I'd be better off. Able to push the feelings away, to concentrate on my studies. But –" She sighed, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know what I would have done if you had left."

He stood quietly before her, close enough to touch her, but was unsure if that was allowed.

"You do know what I'm talking about, right? You knew...you knew before I did, didn't you? You felt it?" She looked at him earnestly.

He didn't hesitate. Spock reached a hand out to caress the side of her face. "Why are you crying?"

She gave a short laugh that was choked on a sob. "Don't you know?"

His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck, drawing her close to him, until their faces were inches apart. "Yes. Of course. I know precisely." And in a decidedly human-like fashion, he pulled her in for a kiss, caressing her lips gently, briefly with his, before pulling back. His gaze met hers then he kissed her again, this time, a long passionate kiss.

Nyota sighed into his mouth, bringing her hands up to rest against his chest. Spock pushed her further back until she rested against the desk. Her hands moved from his chest to his waistband, tearing at his uniform jacket, desperate to remove it, to feel his flesh against hers.

This was dangerous. They were exposed and could easily be seen by anyone.

They didn't care.

Spock reached down to her hips and lifted her, setting her upon the desk. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her, and he dropped his face against her breasts, breathing deeply, harshly. She pressed herself tightly against him, eliciting a moan from the normally stoic Vulcan, and grabbed him by his hair, pulling his face back up to hers, biting his lip. He groaned into her mouth and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He reached down to the hem of her skirt and pushed it up before bringing his hand into her underwear.

She moaned loudly against his mouth as he touched her and he deftly undid the buttons on his pants. Swiftly, he lifted her higher and entered her.

She gasped loudly, turning her head to the side. His breath caressed the side of her face, teasing the loose curls. She turned her face to his once more.

"Spock," she whispered breathily.

"Nyota." He stilled his movements and slowly brought a hand to her face. Caressing her cheek, he whispered, "I love you."

She gasped at his emotional admission. "I love you."

"Nyota...may I?"

She nodded and he placed his fingers on her psi points. The link opened and his emotions cascaded over her and hers over him. She gasped loudly. It was unlike anything either had experience before. Spock had been careful during his _Pon Farr_ to maintain enough control to extinguish the possibility of establishing a telepathic connection during their tryst. He had been determined to ensure that she would not be subjected to an unwanted bond.

Maintaining the connection, Spock slowly began to move against her, drawing another gasp from her lips. They were the shallow, uneven movements of a man who knew of the threat of discovery but too desperate to stop.

He pressed her harder against the desk, leaning into her, forcing her onto her elbows. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wringing her fingers into his hair, and kissed him desperately.

A quiet noise – the door's gentle swoosh followed by a sharp intake of breath – suddenly sounded behind them.

Nyota gasped against Spock's lips, her heart pounding. "Someone's here."

* * *

Bones rolled his eyes at him and Kirk sighed heavily.

"Jim. You do realize you're talking about a Vulcan, right? I may not be their biggest fan, but even I know they're not capable of what you're accusing Commander Spock of."

"Bones, I know. I know what I saw and I know what I read."

"Okay, okay. Say you're right, and I'm not saying you are, but if, _if_ you're right, why would he, Jim? What would be the logic in risking his career for a little cadet tail on the side?"

Kirk sighed again. "I don't – I don't know." He looked around the room. He recognized the faces of most of the Starfleet brass. He saw Admiral Barnett, Captain Pike. He even recognized the Vulcan Ambassador, who stood next to Pike and a human woman.

But he couldn't see her. "Where's Uhura?" he asked, concerned. For that matter, he thought, where's Spock? He knew the Vulcan had been leading the Ambassador and the woman to the gala, but now he was nowhere in sight.

Concern rose in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, for God's sake, Jim, leave the poor woman alone," his friend said exasperatedly.

Kirk didn't respond. This wasn't about getting in her pants, though admittedly that was exactly what he wanted when he first saw her. This was about his very real concern over her safety.

He eyed the exit and headed in that direction, heedless of McCoy's futile words.

It was quiet in the hall, despite the loudness of the Kelvin Room.

He had no idea if he was headed in the right direction, if she'd even left the gala in the first place.

Something crunched under his feet and he looked down, moving his foot back. He reached down and picked it up. Looking at it, he realized it was the hair barrette Uhura had in her hair earlier. She was near, perhaps.

He peeked into the rooms that he passed. Then he heard a woman's gasp, followed closely by masculine groans. They were coming from the nearby office.

Its doors were closed but he could see light peeking underneath. He moved towards it.

It opened upon his arrival; it was not locked. It took him only seconds to register what he was seeing.

That Vulcan – Spock – had Uhura pinned to the desk, his hand on her face, her skirt hiked up around her waist. He was thrusting against her with abandon as she tore at him, trying to get him off her.

He gasped sharply, unable to keep it in.

And Spock's movements ceased instantly.

"Uhura?"

There was a moment of awkward silence as Kirk watched Spock pull himself off his student. He watched the pair try to redress calmly themselves, Spock's back to him and shielding his view from Uhura. Her eyes were to the ground, in shame or embarrassment, he couldn't be sure.

Once she was decent, her eyes glanced at Spock briefly before she stepped around him and moved to the door swiftly, not looking at Kirk as she passed.

His eyes trailed her, concern permeating his mind. He heard Spock shift behind him and jerked his head back around, facing the Vulcan.

Spock said nothing to him, simply staring straight ahead coldly.

Kirk waited for the backlash, but it never came. Instead, Spock brushed passed him, his cold hard eyes finally searing him.

Kirk dropped his own gaze, staring at the floor.


	4. Concern from an Unwanted Man

  
**CHAPTER FOUR  
**   
**  
_CONCERN FROM AN UNWANTED MAN_   
**

* * *

It was several minutes before Kirk felt calm enough to move. A deep breath and he exited the office, still stifled with the smell of sex, and returned to the Kelvin Room. Upon reentering, his eyes scoured the guests and Starfleet members. He spotted Spock and Uhura and his eyes widened in surprise.

The pair was standing together alongside Lady Amanda. The older woman smiled brightly at something the Vulcan said and replied. Then she left them alone.

From his vantage point near the door, Kirk watched the pair. He wanted to protect her, to save her if she needed it.

Across the room, Spock glanced about, eyeing everyone around him, then reached down and surreptitiously took Uhura's hand in his, his thumb brushing sensuously across the back of her hand.

Uhura smiled tightly and gently removed her hand from his.

Spock's eyebrow rose.

She spoke to him, leaning in closely. Her eyes tight and her posture rigid. With an elegant grace, she moved away from him, putting a good distance between them.

Spock stepped closer to her, speaking. He towered over her petite form, imposing.

She leaned away from him and replied to his statement. Quite vehemently.

From where he was standing, Kirk wasn't able to hear any of their conversation, but he was able to read her lips somewhat.

She said "no" quite clearly. Quite forcibly.

He knew that much.

With a final look, Uhura moved away from Spock swiftly, crossing the room. She neared Kirk but didn't even bother glancing at him.

Spock's eyes followed her retreating form. When she crossed by Kirk, Spock's eyes locked with the Cadet's. His eyes were unreadable. A mask of Vulcan indifference.

Kirk felt cold.

* * *

"There you are. I have been looking all over for you two. Where'd you go? I saw you two leave together."

Uhura's face flushed and she glanced at Spock, who stood stoically before his smiling mother. She thought Amanda had a knowing glimmer in her eyes, though she had no idea how the woman could have figured it out.

"Mother." Spock's voice carried a warning. "It would be against regulation for what you are implying."

Amanda laughed. "Who said anything about implications? Really, Spock. But since you brought it up..." She let her sentence hang in the air.

A rush of embarrassment surged through Uhura and she silently willed the ground to open up and swallow her.

Naturally, it didn't.

She looked at Spock, wondering how he would reply to his mother.

"Very well, Mother." He lowered his voice. "Nyota and I are...interested in pursuing a relationship together." He offered nothing more.

But it was all his mother needed and she smiled brightly. "I had a feeling about you two. But, okay, I'll leave you two alone now. I need to find your father anyway." She left them.

Uhura's heart raced and she released a breath. She was uncomfortable with Spock's easy openness regarding the extremely new change to their relationship. It wasn't that she was not interested in pursuing a relationship with him - that couldn't be further from the truth - but it was nerve wracking to hear him be so vocal about an emotional relationship - a relationship that was in violation of several regulations - in a crowded room with several Starfleet officers and officials nearby.

She felt his hand gently embrace her own and was startled. Here? In this very open and very public place, he wanted to hold hands? She pulled her hand from his as gently as she could. "Spock? What are you doing?"

His eyebrow rose upwards.

She wasn't sure what he was thinking. She leaned in close, mindful of their surroundings. "Here? Where we can get caught?" She stepped away from him. She wouldn't risk it. They already got caught once tonight.

He stepped closer to her, forcing her to crane her neck upwards to keep eye contact. "I apologize, Nyota." He kept his voice quiet. "I find that I am still under the effects of our interrupted liaison. You do not wish to renege on our confessions, do you?"

She leaned back slightly. "What? No! God, no. Just...not here. Later. I promise." She met his eyes for one last lingering look. Then, she turned and, with a swish of her hips, moved across the room. She could feel her lover's eyes upon her. She spotted her green-skinned friend and adjusted her destination towards her. Unfortunately, in doing so, she passed near Kirk, who stared at her with an indiscernible look. But she decided she wouldn't allow herself to dwell on it.

* * *

With a final long look at the cold-hearted Vulcan, Kirk allowed his eyes to drift to Uhura. He wanted to see if she was okay, but then chastised himself. She was the victim of a forceful Vulcan who seemed set on harassing her. Of course, she wasn't okay.

With set determination, he made his way to her, bypassing members of the crowd as efficiently as he could, lest he lose sight of her.

She had found her friend Gaila and quickly had engrained herself with the Orion and her male companions. One of the men said something intended to be funny and Gaila burst out in false laughter. She looked at Uhura, who stood stoically.

Uhura glared at her friend briefly before joining her in the forced laughter. Her eyes darted around nervously, as though she feared an attack at any moment.

Kirk felt his heart lurch at the thought of strong beautiful Uhura so quickly reduced to this trembling frightened girl. He knew he had to be subtle in his approach, had to be certain not to alarm her. She was on edge though and it would hardly do for him to add to her distress. So Kirk slowed his steps and approached her from the front, ensuring that she would see him.

And she definitely saw him, her eyes growing wide, her cheeks flushing.

"Are you blushing?" Gaila smirked at her friend.

"No." Uhura cleared her throat and tried to look elsewhere but her eyes returned to Kirk.

Gaila followed her gaze and her brilliant smile became even brighter. "Ooh. I knew it."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Uhura abruptly moved away from Gaila and toward Kirk. She all but hissed. "What do you want?"

Kirk slowly reached towards her, wanting to comfort her but unsure if it would be appreciated. "Are you okay?" His voice was gentle, quiet.

She jerked away from him and his heart ached. "Don't. I'm fine." Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Spock, who glanced at her briefly before returning his attention his companions.

Kirk followed her eyes and felt a rage nearly overcome him when he saw that Vulcan make eye contact with her. But getting angry now was not what she needed. He took his eyes off Spock and back on her. He tilted his head, trying his best to appear non-threatening. "How can you be sure?"

She glared at him. "No. Just drop it, Okay? Please! Forget what you think you saw."

His voice dropped low. He couldn't embarrass her or traumatize her any further. But he had to help her. "Uhura, this has to end. It has to be reported."

"What? No! Don't do it, Kirk. Please, just drop it."

He stared at her, at the tears forming in her eyes, the fear in them. How could he drop it? "I...don't think I can." He took a step away from her, his intent to report the incident immediately weighing heavily on his mind.

She stepped closer to him. Her actions grew more desperate, frightened. "No! It won't happen again and we can all move on from this incident and put it behind us."

Kirk couldn't understand why she seemed so determined to protect _him_. Why would she not wish to report the incident, to have him removed from Starfleet, placed under arrest, and taken away? Far away from her. So she could live in peace.

"He didn't mean to do it. Okay? He just lost control."

Why was she defending him? And a Vulcan losing control like that? Was that even possible? It just didn't make any sense to Kirk. He'd been under the impression that Vulcans were supposed to be too logical, too unfeeling to even lose control.

He sighed heavily.

"Please." Her voice became a whisper.

Kirk looked at her sadly. It was obvious that she was afraid. But of what? Retribution from Spock? He glanced at the Vulcan, who had reunited with the older woman. Kirk couldn't get the image – Spock forcing Uhura against the desk, thrusting into her, as she tried desperately to pull him off her – out if his head. He sighed and turned away from her. Behind him, he heard her rushed breathing – Anxiety? Fear? – and set his shoulders, marching away from her.

He found McCoy quickly and approached him.

McCoy turned to him, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Where the hell have you been? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I was looking for Uhura. And yes."

Bones sighed. "Really, Jim? Now? Just give it up already."

Kirk sighed heavily and glanced around the room, seeing all the faces of the cadets, eyes wide in fascination, and the blank faces of the Vulcans, each one looking more and more pretentious and superior than the last. Satisfied no one was paying any attention, he leaned in close to whisper on Bones' ear. "I...I just saw her and Commander Spock -"

"Yeah? So?"

Kirk cleared his throat. "Bones, he was attacking her. I saw it."

McCoy leaned back, his eyes widening. "Are you absolutely certain, Jim?"

Kirk nodded emphatically. "He had her against the desk. She couldn't get him off her."

McCoy let out a low whistle, uncertain. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

"That's what I should do, right?" Kirk scanned the room again, looking for either Spock or Uhura.

"You're damn right that's what you should do." Bones crossed his arms. "Why would that even be a question?"

Kirk sighed. "Uhura...she asked - begged me not to."

McCoy looked at him incredulously. "And you're just gonna listen to her?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"Jim, look. I know you want to help her, but doing as she asks...this time, it's not helping her. You need to tell someone, someone higher ranked, and yeah, she may hate you for doing it. But eventually, when the fear and the trauma fade, she'll realize you were only looking out for her."

Jim sighed. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I should go tell someone."

"Of course, I'm right. Now, go."

Kirk nodded and scanned the crowd. He saw Spock and Uhura near one another and his eyes nearly bulged in surprise. That damned Vulcan didn't give up.

The two in question made eye contact with one another before shifting their gazes elsewhere.

Kirk suppressed the urge to march to Spock and demand he leave her alone. No, Bones was right. He needed to go to a higher authority.

His eyes moved from Spock and Uhura and landed on Pike.

The captain was surrounded by a trio of Vulcans and he was speaking quite animatedly to them.

Kirk made his way to him, weaving in and out of the crowd. He waited anxiously as the man finished his story to the delegates. He spoke when Pike appeared to be finished. "Sir? I need to speak to you."

Pike faced him and raised his eyebrow in a move that reminded Kirk of Spock's own animated brow and he felt nauseated.

"It's important, sir. Otherwise I wouldn't be interrupting."

Pike sighed and turned to his audience. "Excuse me for just one moment."

The Vulcans nodded politely.

Pike stepped away and motioned for Kirk to follow. "What is it, Cadet?"

Kirk looked around them, aware of the eyes upon him, and decided it would be best to be discreet. He leaned in close to Pike and whispered in his ear, telling him exactly what he saw.

Pike jerked away from him. His brow creased and he looked at Kirk with disbelief. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Kirk nodded gravely.

Pike returned to the Vulcan delegates. "Excuse me, I'm gonna have to cut this short. Something's come up." He turned to Kirk. "Follow me."

Kirk nodded. He followed Captain Pike closely. His eyes darted around the room, looking for them. He didn't find them. They were no longer in the Kelvin Room, it seemed.

He felt somewhat nervous trailing Pike, as though he was the one in trouble. But the gravity of incoming accusations was not lost on him. An officer's entire career was poised on the gallows and all it could take was his word to pull the switch to send it plummeting. A cadet's future prospects could be irrevocably tarnished by this. This could forever follow her, haunting her career. Kirk knew all this. But he also knew that he had given an oath, a vow to report anything suspicious, questionable, or illegal.

He knew Bones was right. This couldn't go unreported.

He still didn't like this.

But...the irrational part of his brain told him that this might be the thing he needs to convince Uhura that he could be honorable, respectable.

Pike unknowingly took Kirk to the same office in which Commander Spock attacked Uhura.

Kirk fought to keep his gaze level on his superior and not on the desk where he'd seen the Vulcan rutting against Uhura.

Pike sighed and paced the room. He stopped and looked at Kirk. "You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes. I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes." Kirk placed his shaking hands behind his back. "It was in this office."

Pike inhaled deeply, his eyes closing. "Damnit!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"Sir?"

Pike picked up his pacing, anger and frustration evident in the heavy steps he took. "I cannot deal with this now."

Kirk hesitated. Should he recant? Find someone else?

Pike looked at him. His voice was gruff, authoritative, and demanded no disobedience. "Stay here."

"Yes, sir." Kirk awkwardly, uncomfortably watched as Pike walked out of the room, leaving him alone. He felt strangely like he was on trial, like he was the one who had broken not only regulation, but law. But he didn't. He was simply the man who had the displeasure of reporting it.

Kirk paced the room briefly before deciding to take a seat one of the chairs against the wall near the door.

He could understand Pike's alarm and disbelief at his news. Though Kirk really only knew Spock by reputation, the Vulcan's reputation certainly proceeded him. The first Vulcan to enlist in Starfleet, he whizzed right through the Academy, becoming one of Starfleet's most distinguished graduates. He was respected. He was highly regarded and one might even say revered. At least by a few. And now, Spock was being accused of something heinous by a Cadet.

Yes, Kirk could understand the disbelief in Pike's face, the hesitance to believe.

It was only a few moments before Pike returned.

The door slid open and Kirk jumped to his feet, standing at attention. His eyes widened when he saw who accompanied the Captain.

It was Ambassador Sarek.


	5. Two Sides of One Story, Unconnected

  
**CHAPTER FIVE**   
**  
_TWO SIDES OF ONE STORY UNCONNECTED_   
**

* * *

"Cadet." Pike spoke calmly. "You're familiar with Ambassador Sarek, aren't you?"

Kirk stood more erect. The inclusion of the Vulcan Ambassador was not something he had anticipated. Why was Pike involving him? Yes, Spock was Vulcan, but he was a Starfleet officer first. "Yes, sir. I know of the Ambassador." He looked at Sarek. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

The Ambassador inclined his head. "I am sure."

Kirk's eyes darted from the Ambassador to Pike.

"Cadet Kirk, please tell the Ambassador what you told me." Pike crossed his arms, standing behind the stoic Vulcan.

Kirk's eyes widened. This was something he definitely didn't anticipate. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, echoing in his ears. His hands felt clammy as he grasped them behind his back. He cleared his throat. "Yes, sir." He looked at the stoic Vulcan. "Ambassador, sir, earlier tonight, I saw Commander Spock –" He halted. His eyes dropped to the ground and he took a deep breath. He returned his gaze to Sarek. "I saw Commander Spock attack Cadet Uhura. He was...it looked like he was raping her."

The only outward reaction the Ambassador afforded was the raising of his brows. "Are you quite certain, Cadet Kirk? Are you fully aware of what you are accusing my son to have done?"

Kirk's eyes widened and he stumbled over his words. "Your – your son? Spock is your son?"

"Commander Spock," Pike interjected. "You should address him as Commander Spock."

Kirk dropped his head, contrite. "Of course, sir." His gaze met Sarek's. "I had no idea he was your son, sir."

Sarek dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It is irrelevant. But what you are accusing Spock of is no small matter."

Kirk shook his head emphatically. "No, of course not, sir. I am aware of how serious my accusation is. But I saw what I saw. It looked like Commander Spock was sexually assaulting Cadet Uhura."

"It looked like or it was?" Ambassador Sarek asked.

Kirk tilted his head. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"I am merely attempting to clarify. One implies a matter of perspective and the other implies fact. Which is it? It looked like or it was?"

Kirk hesitated for a moment. "It was. I know it was."

There was a moment of silence as the enormity of Kirk's words weighed on everyone. Captain Pike proceeded to pace the room and Sarek stood still, the deep inhale the only sign that he was affected by Kirk's words.

"This just doesn't seem like Spock." Pike stopped pacing, placing his hands on his hips.

"Indeed, I am inclined to agree. However, Christopher, my son is an unknown variable. We still do not fully understand how his human DNA has and will affect him. Though I will admit Spock has shown that he is quite capable of giving in to violent impulses. As much as it...grieves me, I do believe such an act is within Spock's grasp."

Kirk watched the exchange between the Ambassador and the Captain with curiosity. Human DNA? Spock was a hybrid? And how did having human DNA make him more likely to attack Uhura? That sounded like an excuse. An excuse given because a man – or Vulcan – cannot believe his son would do such a thing. Kirk could understand certain reluctance on the Ambassador's part. No one wants to see his son become a monster. But, really, there came a time when one had to place blame firmly where it belonged – the perpetrator. That was the logical thing to do, wasn't it?

"But how can we be certain, Sarek? Are you telling me I need to find a replacement for my First Officer?" Pike, it seemed, still had difficulty accepting Spock as a sexual predator.

Kirk glanced around the room. He felt like he didn't belong here. He'd done his part. He spotted a PADD laying on the floor near the desk and made a small move towards it but was interrupted.

"Cadet, I want you tell us exactly what you saw. From the beginning." Pike's voice was firm.

Kirk cleared his throat. "Well, sir, it started earlier today."

"Earlier today? You mean there's more than one isolated incident?" Pike asked incredulously.

The cadet cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

Pike and Sarek looked at one another, then Pike cursed quietly again. He paced the office once more.

Sarek's eyes followed him briefly before falling on Kirk. "Please, explain to me everything you saw."

Kirk took a deep breath and told them. He told them of how he had stumbled across them in a clearing off the pathways on the Academy grounds. He told them of how he witnessed Spock force Uhura to do his bidding. How she was on her knees before him with his hands grasping her head. How she was servicing him. He told them of witnessing her run from the commander, tears streaming down her face.

He looked into the eyes of two men who had much at stake in this revelation. A captain whose First Officer was abusing his power and forcing cadets into unwanted situations. A father who stood on the precipice of political outcry for his villainous son's inconceivable actions.

He also told them of the scene in this very office that he had interrupted. He told them of how Spock had Uhura pinned to the desk, moving wildly against her. He told them of her futile attempts at getting him off of her. He told them of how Spock continued to harass her afterwards, in the Kelvin Room, until she was finally able to escape his grasp.

Pike sighed heavily. With his arms crossed tightly against his chest, he looked wearily to the ground. "We need more. We can't just take the word of a single cadet."

"I agree." Sarek was as stoic as ever. Kirk wondered if the Vulcan even cared that his son attacked a woman. He certainly didn't seem too concerned.

Kirk took a breath and spoke again. "There was something else."

The Captain and Ambassador looked at him expectantly.

"A letter."

"What letter?" Pike asked.

"Commander Spock had written a letter to Cadet Uhura and requested that I give it her. She seemed quite upset when she read it. I can't say I blame her."

Finally Sarek gave a reaction. His eyes widened. "That letter?"

Kirk nodded. "Yes, sir. On the way to the Kelvin Room, Commander Spock stopped me."

"Yes, I can recall the events."

Kirk shuffled nervously on his feet. "I, uh, I know I shouldn't I have read it, but I did."

Pike sighed. "Do you know where it is?"

Kirk looked around the room briefly and picked up the PADD he'd eyed earlier. It was the same one he'd given Uhura. And the letter was still on the device. He handed it to Sarek, who took it.

The Ambassador turned the device on and the letter appeared on the screen. Pike stood behind him and both men read it. Sarek slowly dropped his hands, the device still held tightly, and Pike stepped away.

There was a deafening silence that was rudely broken when Pike lashed out, kicking the side of the desk in anger.

Kirk looked away. "I'm sorry, sir."

* * *

Spock stood outside the office door for several moments, unsure of what would occur once he entered. He was curious why Captain Pike requested that he come to this particular office, down the hall from the Kelvin Room, where the event of the evening was finally winding down. It was late. Pike's office was not in this building. It was across the campus. Why here? He recalled with perfect clarity what he and Nyota had done in this very office merely hours ago and his heart raced in his side.

And he recalled what they had done after they had snuck out of the event. She had laughed wholeheartedly and said that it felt like they were teenagers in high school, sneaking around their parents and trying not to get caught. He had not argued. For it was similar in many ways.

Their mutual attraction. Their mutual confessions. His intense happiness and hers. It was a moment of perfection – even if such a word was illogical – that had only been marred by the appearance of that insufferable cadet.

It was true that he has never had the honor of teaching Cadet Kirk, but he was well aware of the man's reputation. It certainly preceded him. And Spock could not understand why Captain Pike went through such lengths to recruit him. The stories he had heard about the cadet were less than stellar. Brash. Arrogant. Cocky. Headstrong. Such attributes were not ideal, in Spock's opinion, for a cadet set on the command track.

And there was, of course, Kirk's attraction towards Nyota. It was such an obvious attraction that it did not even escape the eyes of a Vulcan. Spock just didn't know of what to make of it.

Deciding that he had wasted enough time already and wishing to return to Nyota who still slept in his bed, he entered the office.

Captain Pike, Cadet Kirk and his father stood before him. He was surprised and it was a struggle to not let that surprise show. "Father?" What was he doing here? "Is something wrong?" He eyed the cadet. Why was he here?

Sarek stepped forward, bringing his hands before him, touching his fingertips together. A pensive move. A move Spock knew well from his childhood. A move his father would do whenever he was about to broach a topic with which he was uncomfortable.

"Son, we have much to discuss."

Spock's eyebrow rose.

Pike motioned to an empty chair. "Have a seat, Commander."

Spock's eyes moved from his father to his future captain and finally to Kirk. The cadet refused to make eye contact. The cadet's nervous behavior aroused suspicion in Spock. "I believe I will remain standing, thank you." He clasped his hands behind his back and he looked at Pike. "What is this about?"

Pike took a deep breath. "There have been allegations made towards you."

"Allegations?" His eyes moved back to Kirk. He had an inkling of who had made them.

"It would be best for all of us if you answer truthfully."

"Of course, Captain. Lying would be an illogical waste of everyone's time."

Pike smiled tightly. "How would you describe your relationship with Cadet Uhura?"

"Relationship? To which relationship are you referring?"

"Don't be obtuse, Commander. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

Spock was hesitant. Already? This was something he should have anticipated the moment Kirk walked in on Nyota and him. And even she reprimanded him for his admittedly unprofessional behavior afterwards. He looked at Kirk again. "What has Cadet Kirk told you?"

Kirk stood erect when Spock said his name. No doubt he was curious what would be said in his name.

"The cadet has informed us that he witnessed you engaging Cadet Uhura in unsavory behavior." Sarek pinned his son with a stern look.

Spock nearly flinched. Of course his father would disapprove. "I understand your disapproval, Father, and to be frank, I have learned that I do not need your approval and to actively seek it would be a waste of my time."

Pike groaned. "Spock, do you know what you're saying?"

"Of course, I do, Captain. I said it."

"Damnit, Spock!" Pike spun away from him, unable to look at him anymore.

Spock raised an eyebrow at his captain's behavior. He looked at Kirk. Why was that cadet still here? This was a matter that did not concern Kirk. "Captain Pike, if I may make a request?"

"What is it, Spock?" Pike's voice carried a sort of dejection, resignation to it.

"I request that Cadet Kirk leave." He was blunt, frank in his request. There was no reason to coat his request with niceties.

Kirk, for his part, suddenly stepped forward. It seemed he was about to speak when Pike beat him to it.

"Cadet Kirk, you're dismissed." Pike maintained eye contact with Spock, not sparing a glance in Kirk's direction.

"But, sir -"

Pike spared him a glance. "That's an order."

Kirk sighed angrily. "Yes, sir." He stormed towards the door. He glared at Spock, speaking to him under his breath. "I don't know how you can live with yourself."

"Cadet, that's enough!" Pike exclaimed.

Spock's eyebrow rose skyward.

Kirk glanced back at Pike. "Sorry, sir." He left.

Spock, satisfied that Kirk was no longer present, returned his attention to his father. "I apologize, Father. I realize that I have been a disappointment to you. I understand your anger, your frustration with my decision to decline the position at the Vulcan Science Academy. When I annulled the bond with T'Pring. When I, as you often said, gave into my human impulses far too often. I understand your disappointment that I was not...Vulcan enough for you."

"You are wrong, Spock. I have never been disappointed. Until now."

The slight widening of his eyes was the only visual sign Spock gave of his surprise. And, interestingly enough, his pain at his father's word. He had convinced himself that he didn't need his father's approval in his life. And it was true that his father had never actually verbalized his disappointment and therefore, it seemed Spock made a gross misinterpretation of his father's actions. However, he had not prepared himself for the sting that came when Sarek finally admitted disappointment. "I see."

Pike sighed. "Spock, you have broken many regulations regarding fraternization between superior officers and their students."

So this was it. The happiness Spock had felt earlier this evening vanished in an instant. They had been caught. They had been reported. And, as the superior officer, he was set to pay the price. Spock wondered what this would mean for Nyota and him. Would they continue to explore their budding relationship or would she want to end it before it began? That possibility was less than appealing. "I understand, Captain Pike, and I take full responsibility for my actions. However, I will not apologize for them, either. I harbor no remorse for...giving in to my baser human tendencies."

Pike's eyes slid close. "Alright, Spock. You've really put me in a tough situation. A situation that really had never expected to find myself in with you. I will have to inform the board. They will have to make a decision regarding your future here at Starfleet. However, I can tell you now that I will be looking for a new first officer."

Spock was momentarily stunned. He had not foreseen this. In the past, Pike had always teased Spock about not partaking in the inane human ritual of courtship, of seeking out female companionship. And now... "I understand that, sir. And for that, I do apologize. I will accept whatever punishment is rendered towards me with undue humility."

"Have you considered the emotional pain and suffering this will bring to your mother?" Sarek spoke suddenly.

Spock tilted his head to the side. "I was under the impression that my actions, my decision were met with her approval."

Sarek sighed. "That is where you are mistaken."

Spock's eyebrow rose. A vague understanding was kindling within his mind. There was more to this situation that he had first anticipated.

But what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write, because I think it contains one of the biggest plotholes. And it was something I struggled with. In the end, I decided to try to write an incident where Spock; and Pike and Sarek are not completely aware of what the other is saying. Spock believes he's just confessing to an affair with a student and the others think he's confessing to raping her. I don't know if I conveyed it the way I saw in my head, but there you have it. And if you've seen the movie then you know what happens to Robbie the moment he returns to the house after the search party. He's whisked away in handcuffs by the police with nothing more than the word of a 13-year-old girl, which was something that bugged me, despite my overall love of this movie.


	6. Two Lovers Separated by Misinterpretation

**CHAPTER SIX  
**  
 _  
 **Two Lovers Separated by Misinterpretation**  
_

Last night, Spock had found himself unable to sleep for the first time in his life. His usual methods of inducing sleep were inert, incapable of lulling him into that calm semi-meditative state he sought before he slept. Even knowing that Nyota lay in his bed, awaiting his return, did not help. His mind had been on overdrive. He had contemplated the events that had taken place with Pike and his father. And Kirk. He still did not like that cadet.

Yes, he knew he and Nyota had taken a huge risk when they decided last night to take their relationship to the next level. On the outside, it was wrong. It broke the rules regarding fraternization between teacher and student. Spock had hoped that perhaps he and Nyota could enter a gray area of those rules. She was technically not a student of his. Not any longer. And for the past two months, she was not even his teacher's aide. Yes, perhaps it was bending the rules, perhaps to the point of breakage, but he had hoped that it was still enough to slip under the radar, as it were.

But he had been wrong. He had not calculated Cadet Kirk's actions.

He had been foolish.

And now, he stood outside the office of Admiral Barnett, preparing to receive his punishment for his actions. For falling in love. And acting upon that love.

But his intent was no concern of Starfleet. And he accepted whatever punishment he would receive for his actions. And he intended to do so without argument.

If only he and Nyota had more time.

The door slid open, granting him entrance.

He paused for a moment, preparing himself mentally then entered.

Admiral Barnett sat behind his desk. Captain Pike and his father flanked the admiral, standing on either side of him.

Spock stood before the three men, his hands behind his back. He gave a small bow in greeting.

Admiral Barnett wasted no time. "Thank you for joining us, Commander Spock."

"I was under the impression that my presence was not an option."

Barnett paused and looked at him. He placed his hands on his desk, interlocking his fingers. "Yes." He cleared his throat. "I have to admit that I never expected to see you in this situation."

"It was not something I had predicted myself, sir. I had assumed I would have exercised more discretion than as of late."

Barnett's eyebrows rose and he glanced back at Pike, who merely nodded dejectedly.

As Spock watched their exchanged, he tightened his grip on his fingers. He felt strangely lost, as though there was a piece to this puzzle he did know and they were keeping it from him. He did not like this feeling. He spared a look at his father. Sarek remained stoic, the epitome of Vulcan serenity.

"Spock, you have placed me in a very delicate situation." Barnett looked at him once more, his mouth set narrowly.

"I apologize, sir. I understand that I have infracted many regulations, and I am fully prepared to accept my punishment, whatever it may be."

Barnett stood from his seat and walked around his desk. He came to a halt in front of the young Vulcan. He sighed. "I'll be honest with you, Commander. I never believed a Vulcan was capable of what you had done."

"Indeed, most are not. Or would not. But as I am sure you are aware, I am not fully Vulcan. I am also half-human."

Barnett nodded. "Yes, I'm aware. The Ambassador has informed me of your unique status before your arrival."

Spock nodded. "That was most logical."

"Yes." Barnett glanced at Sarek and Pike. "Now, as I'm sure you are aware, the full board is generally required to sit in on these sorts of...inquiries and order full-scale investigations, but out of respect for your father and to spare him the political embarrassment, I'd like to avoid that."

"Of course."

"So I'm going to offer you a choice, before this goes any further. The Ambassador and I have spoken at great length about the appropriate action." Barnett clasped his hands behind his back, standing much like Spock. "You can either resign your commission or you can remain, face a court martial and tarnish your father's reputation."

So this was it. Spock shuffled slightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He glanced from Barnett to his father, who glared at him disapprovingly. He dropped his gaze. "I see."

He doubted he really had a choice.

Nyota smiled to herself as she let herself into Spock's quarters. She knew he was inside. He had told her this morning as she had walked out the door that he would not be opposed to seeing her later. And as today was Saturday, he did not venture from his quarters. No, Saturdays were reserved for meditation, reading scientific journals, or whatever else he deemed needed his attention.

She struggled to suppress a girlish giggle that threatened to erupt. She felt like a school girl whose crush finally looked at her. For the first time in quite a long time – two months and fourteen days, as Spock would point out – she felt happy. On top of the world, as hyperbolic as that might be. She had joined Starfleet to explore the universe. She had never expected to fall in love. Much less with a Vulcan. And even less, have him feel the same way for her.

Last night, even with the blemish that was Kirk, was gorgeous. She had never expected anything like that to happen. And it probably wouldn't have happened if he hadn't accidently sent the wrong letter. Or maybe it still would have. Or maybe they wouldn't have caved into their desires and made love in that office. She didn't know. And she didn't care.

All she knew was that she and Spock had finally bared their hearts to one another and now knew where they stood with each other. It was amazing how much lighter she felt, like a heavy weight on her chest had finally been removed.

"Spock?" she called out.

He wasn't in the living room, and as she looked around the room, she was startled by the starkness of it. The emptiness. Something wasn't right. It wasn't like this earlier.

She was vaguely aware of the slight increase in her heartbeat. Where was all his stuff? Was he moving to new quarters?

She heard noises coming from the sleeping quarters. With a shaky smile, she walked to the door. She halted in the entrance of his bedroom, her smile suddenly faltering.

A duffle bag was laid out on the bed. It was open. Clothing – his civilian wear – was neatly folded and neatly packed into the bag. His Starfleet uniforms were methodically laid across the bed, collated in a single row.

Her heart raced in her chest. What was going on? She heard a loud clank from the bathroom as he closed the cabinet. She did not move. She continued to stare straight ahead at the open bag, the uniforms.

She was vaguely aware of his presence when he entered. He carried his toiletries.

He walked past her. "It is not wise for you to be here." He bent over his bed and placed the toiletries in the bag. He was not wearing his uniform. He was wearing civilian clothing. While that would not be alarming on anyone else – and indeed, she wore a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a light blouse – but for Spock, it set her nerves on edge.

"What?" She swallowed. "What's going on?"

He straightened slowly and met her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Spock, what's going on? Are...are you leaving?" She stepped forward then hesitated, unsure if she would be allowed any closer.

He took a step towards her, his hands falling to his sides. "I am. I have been given one hour to collect my belongings and leave the campus."

Her chest clenched. "Why?"

"I have been ordered to resign my commission in light of certain events last night." He looked away from her. Shame? Sadness?

The air escaped her lungs. She didn't need to ask; she knew exactly what he was talking about. "Was it Kirk?" Still, she was almost afraid of the answer.

"Yes. Cadet Kirk reported our actions to Captain Pike, who then translated the events to Admiral Barnett and my father. However, I...believe Kirk maybe have exaggerated the events in question."

She crossed her arms around her chest tightly. "But I don't understand. This doesn't make any sense. Why wasn't I asked to give my account? Why are they basing everything on the words of a cadet? And Kirk, at that?"

"I do not have any answers for you, Nyota. And for that, I am deeply sorry."

"And now you're being forced to leave?"

"Yes."

"But...we just found each other." Her voice cracked, tears falling from her eyes.

"Yes." He stepped closer to her.

"Will I ever see you again?"Her voice was quiet, meek. Heartbroken.

"I shall endeavor to make it possible," he whispered.

She covered her mouth with her hand, sobbing loudly. She erased the remaining distance between them, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Spock reached for her shoulders and gently pulled her away from him. Cupping her face gently in his hands, he whispered fiercely. "You are to continue towards your graduation. You have much to offer Starfleet. You were one of my top students, with an unparalleled ability. I advise you to remain here. Starfleet has much to offer you, and you to it, I do not wish to see you give it up for me." He hesitated. "It is likely Starfleet will extend counseling to you, if it is necessary."

She shook her head fiercely.. "Will I be able to contact you?"

He closed his eyes. "I do not know if that will be a feasible option."

She released a short cry of despair, burying her face in his neck. She tightened her grip on his waist. She didn't want to let him go. This was supposed to be their time of happiness. And it was shattered in an instant. All because Kirk couldn't leave it alone. She felt a rush of intense anger...hatred for the man who had spent years harassing her, flirting with her. He could never understand why she wouldn't give him the time of day. Was he upset? Angry at her disinterest? Was this done in retaliation? She had hoped that maybe Kirk was above that, but now?

She pulled back to look at him. "I can go and talk to them. I can speak to the Admirals, to Captain Pike. I can tell them the truth. That it wasn't an attack. That I was a willing participant. They might let you back in."

Spock shook his head slowly. "It will be unsuccessful. It was foolish of me to engage in a relationship of such a nature and particularly, on campus, in an open location. It is a violation of regulations. It would not matter if you declared my innocence in the accused attack, I still breached the rules. And no doubt, there would be retribution against you, for your part, and I do not wish to see your future career demolished because of your human emotions."

Nyota's tears fell unbidden. She didn't try to wipe them away. It would be pointless. Her heart was shattered. Bruised and broken. "But you would let them believe that you are a monster? A rapist?"

"Yes. If it would protect you, yes." Of course, he would.

"So, this is goodbye?"

He rested his forehead against hers. "Yes. However, I will try to contact you when I can. I cannot promise, though."

She nodded then reached for him, drawing him into a desperate kiss. He reacted in kind, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her close.

She sobbed into the kiss. "Come back to me."

He nodded and pulled her into another kiss. It was brief. Too brief. Slowly he withdrew from her arms. He returned to the duffle bag lying on his bed. He closed it then picked it up, slinging it around his shoulder. He met her eyes for a long moment.

No words were spoken.

Then, he walked around her and out of the room.

She remained standing, rooted to the same spot, looking at his bed, bearing the forgotten uniforms, remembering last night. When they had made love on that bed. Uninterrupted and without the threat of his death at the hands of _Pon Farr_.

She heard the front door slide open and he exit.

When the door swooshed closed, the dam broke.

* * *

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. His palms were clammy. Kirk leaned heavily against the wall next to Uhura's dorm. When he had first arrived here, he had knocked on the door, but received no answer.

He violated her wishes. But he needed to believe he did the right thing. Because otherwise, he just watched an innocent man – Vulcan – be condemned as a rapist, a manipulator. But, Kirk thought, even Spock's father didn't seem to think that it was too far outside the realm of possibilities. He stated in his stoic unemotional way that Spock was prone to violent outbursts as a child, that he had attack a fellow student and broken that student's nose, his arm. So, violence had a place in Spock's life.

He didn't know what exactly was going to happen to the former Commander. As a mere cadet, he hadn't been privy to that information. But he heard some whispers of a Vulcan monastery somewhere and an ancient ritual. He didn't know what exactly that entailed but he figured it was probably something that Vulcans did to rehabilitate their citizens. He didn't really know and he tried to convince himself that he didn't really care.

He heard footsteps coming down the corridor. He looked up and saw Uhura rushing quickly to her dorm.

Her eyes were red and puffy. Tears stained her cheeks. She'd been crying. She still was.

She halted instantly when she looked up and saw him near the door to her dorm. She stood still, knees locked, muscles tense. She swiped angrily at her tears and approached slowly.

Kirk stared at the ground. He wasn't sure how to take her tear-stained face. When she drew nearer, he looked up. "How are you? Are you okay?"

"Leave me the hell alone!" She lashed out violently, her voice loud. "I don't want to talk to you." She entered the security code and the door slid open.

Kirk reached out and grabbed her arm gently, preventing her from entering. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that you asked me not to tell anyone."

"You're damn right. I did ask. I _begged_ you to keep it to yourself. But in all your self-righteousness, you did it anyway." She jerked arm away from his grasp and crossed her arms tightly around her chest.

Kirk sighed. "I'm sorry. I know that you're angry. But, given enough time, you'll see I was only trying to protect you." He wondered if he kept saying it, that one day he'd believe it was well.

She scoffed. "You didn't do it for me. You did it for yourself."

"What?"

"That's right. You heard me. You only did it for yourself. You think that if you play the big macho man and protect me, that'll endear me to you? Let you into my skirt? Well, I'm going to tell you something, Kirk. And I'm only going to tell you one last time. It will never happen. I will never like you. I will never trust you. You're nothing to me."

As her door slid closed behind her, he felt a sense of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that there were some concerns with the last chapter and trust me, I am well aware of the problems with what I did. **WELL** aware. It bugged me so much that I even placed a warning about it in the my disclaimer notices in the first chapter.
> 
> Yes, having two Vulcans in the room wouldn't lead to much ambiguity. Yes, no one in Starfleet would just take the word of a Cadet over a Commander and leave it at that...And yes, everything could have been cleared up with a mind meld...and everything else that was wrong with this big plothole (which, in some parts, carried over from the movie/2001 novel). I know this. Trust me. I know this. It bugged me too.
> 
> If I had more time to write it, I most certainly would have done it differently. But as I did have a deadline to finish and as it's already been written (yes, it *is* finished)...and even though the deadline got extended while I was working on the last chapter, I still finished it without fixing the big plot hole that transferred from the movie, which transferred from the 2001 novel because at that point I was more than ready to move on to the others stories on my plate and editing Mes-torik T'khiori, so that story could be everything I imagined it to be.
> 
> I thought long and hard about that particular aspect of the story...but couldn't come up with another solution (mostly because I did not have the time to waste due to the deadline). The challenge was to take a film and retell it using the Star Trek characters any way we wanted to. Maybe Atonement doesn't quite fit into the Startrek universe easily, not with modern (and futuristic) methods of investigation but I wanted to tell *that* story...the story of atonement and regret.


	7. Difficult Conversations Proceed

<

 **PART TWO  
**  
 **  
 _FOUR YEARS LATER_  
**

* * *

 **CHAPTER Seven**  
 **  
 _Difficult Conversations Proceed_  
**

* * *

 **Ra'tleihfi, Romulus**

Spock peered out the warped window, surveying the capital city before him. War-torn and desolate, the place no longer possessed the majestic mystique of times past. It was a war zone. Loud klaxon alarms blared in the distance, their sound amplified in the canyons created by the skyscrapers; bright fire ravaged the huge buildings unchecked, flames dancing against the darkening sky. Distant phaser fire and desperate cries could be heard throughout the stark atmosphere. However, despite all this, it was still a winning battle for the Romulans.

The sun was slowly drifting down the blood-tinted sky and the darkness of night was shrouding the city. It helped conceal the Starfleet soldiers engaged in guerilla-type battles with the better-armed and, sometimes, better trained Romulan ground forces. But the setting sun also helped the Romulans. And they knew the land better, knew the hideouts infinitely better.

It was a difficult war.

Satisfied that no one was coming, Spock turned and settled against the distressed cold wall, his eyes closing and his arms cradling his phaser rifle protectively against his chest. He was tired, desperate for rest. His drab, filthy and ill-fitted uniform - a uniform that recalled the culture of his fallen home planet, but not of Starfleet - engulfed his thin, gaunt frame.

He attempted to meditate, but it proved futile. As it had for the past four years. His control was frayed and his emotions threatened to overtake him constantly if he didn't keep tight control of them. But this was immensely draining. And he was exhausted.

The sound of movement to his left caused Spock to open his eyes briefly, to look at his companions across the former store front. Judging from the various singed fabric panels – some of Romulan design, some of other races – adorning the walls, this was once a tailor's shop before it had been ransacked.

"So I said to the guy: 'You can sit here, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for that Romulan bastard to blow your head off if you want, but I'm outta here.' And you know what he said?"

The incessant voice belonged to one of Spock's fellow mercenaries, Jonathan Nettles. Spock had learned quite early how to drown out the man's inane conversations. Ten point two days ago, to be precise. He did not like nor dislike the man. He was a good soldier and could be trusted to do his job. But he had the unfortunate tendency to speak often and loudly. And it was necessary to secure one's belongings tightly, lest they somehow find their way into Nettles' sneaky...sticky grip.

He and Nettles may not have had a lot in common, but they were both bound to one another through a mutual helplessness as the Romulan Emperor Nero destroyed their home planets with a weapon of unknown power and origin. They both had lost their families in the destructions.

Nettles spoke to a young Andorian female, who stood across the small room, eyeing their destroyed communicators with disdain. Shranya was the most unpredictable of the three. Having spent the last five years in the penal colony on Tantalus V, she had finally been granted freedom by Starfleet to help fight Nero and his Romulan allies. Her battle experience was minimal, but she certainly knew her way around a weapon. She was adept and she was adaptable. And she was ruthless. It took her the longest to place her trust in Spock, so many years of Vulcan-Andorian contempt fully entrenched in her society. It was only two Romulan days ago, after an incident in which he risked his life to save hers that she realized he was trustworthy.

A creaking sound from below brought Spock out of his musings. He jumped to his feet quickly and moved to the stairwell. Looking at his companions, Spock briefly touched a finger to his lips. "Shh." He carefully aimed his rifle down the stairs.

The others followed suit.

Suddenly a voice sounded, speaking in Romulan. " _Jolan'tru_?" It was a traditional Romulan greeting. (1)

Immediately, Spock found himself on edge, but he replied in kind. He turned to his fellow soldiers, to Shranya, who was already taking aim, ready to fire. "Please allow me to handle this."

Shranya looked at him briefly before nodding her assent, her antennae moving wildly, revealing her nervousness.

" _Lloannen'galae_?" the voice spoke again, this time inquiring about their affiliation.

" _Ie_." He confirmed the voice's suspicions.

Faint whispering was heard below. There was more than one. Then, " _Mnean patrai krehii ssiun hwio_."

Spock's eyes met Nettles and Shranya's and wordlessly he tightened his grip on his rifle. Too many times they had been ambushed.

The other two noticed his actions and followed suit, gripping their weapons tightly, the knuckles of their hands whitening.

Spock did his best to peer down the stairwell without exposing himself, lest they were preparing for an attack. " _Arhem thei'nihroi fvah_?" He needed an answer. Were they about to be attacked? Why did these Romulans wish to give them something? (2)

"What is he saying?" Shranya spoke quickly, alarmed.

"He says they have something to give us."

"Fucking hell!" Nettles looked skywards, squeezing his eyes shut.

Spock looked at him, brow raised. "I concur."

The Romulans - two males, civilians dressed in the clothing of the lower classes - moved into view, stepping onto the staircase below. The eldest of the two reached into his robes.

Immediately, the Starfleet soldiers released the safety on their rifles, pointing them at the Romulans.

The Romulans halted.

One of the Romulans - the younger of the two - held his hands out, eyeing the weapons warily. " _Lhi uae d'tethos_!"

The soldiers did not put their weapons down.

Calmly, Spock ordered the Romulans to act first. " _Lhi uae ih'hwi_." He aimed his weapon, his knuckles white.

The elder one yelled out, holding his hands out. " _Simhoni_!" He pulled out a small canvas bag that was hidden in his robes. Not weapons. " _Mnean patrai kyrr'lep mnhe. Kyrr'lep hwaehp_..."

His companion rushed to add: " _U'kyrr'lep Kali'fal_!" (3)

Nettles suddenly broke out in a smile, his bright white teeth glinting in the moonlight, and lowered his weapon. He looked at his companions. "I may not know much Romulan, but I know Romulan ale when I hear it!" He looked down at the Romulans and motioned for them to come up. "Come on!"

Spock raised his eyebrow and cast a look at Shranya, determining her stance on the matter. It was merely bread and ale. He told her this.

She lowered her weapon and waved her arms somewhat helplessly, her antennae moving quickly. She sighed.

Spock gave a slight nod and dropped his weapon to his side. Yes, they would allow these Romulan men to join them.

The two Romulans - father and son - quickly engrained themselves amongst the unit, despite the language barrier. Spock learned that they were of the lower societal class. Their educational levels were lacking, but they meant the trio no harm.

The son, Valdore, eyed Spock carefully. He took a drink from the bottle of Romulan ale, the bright blue liquid sloshing in the clear bottle, and held it out to the Vulcan, who shook his head. With a small shrug, Valdore handed it off to Nettles, who took it eagerly. Valdore spoke to Spock. " _Fvah hwiiy sthe khir_?" He wanted to know why they were there.

Spock leaned heavily against the wall behind him. He looked out the window as best he could from his position. Deciding they were still safe, he turned his eyes to Valdore and Sarun, the father. " _Rhifv temnnuil ohrie, Khhiu'draao errhi u'mnean fvaih kunhri_." He told them of their orders to retreat and their subsequent separation when they were ambushed by the expansive Romulan Land Army.

Valdore and Sarun looked at each other. They were not pleased to hear this.

" _Aei lyreth. Lloannen'Galae nnuil_." Valdore's voice adopted a resigned tone. He was not pleased to hear of their impending departure.

Spock was surprised that their orders were already common knowledge in the streets of _Ra'tleihfi_. But he quickly realized he shouldn't have been. It would have been obvious to the residents when the Federation officers started to run in the opposite direction.

Sarun dropped his gaze to his lap. He ran his fingers absently across the folds and wrinkles of his worn robes. He was clearly upset by this news.

His son leaned into him and whispered something in his ear, patting his back, comforting.

Spock looked to his companions, but they were too distracted by the ale, smiling and sharing it with each other. Offering comfort, supporting someone during emotional distress was not an area in which he felt comfortable. Emotions and their accompanying outbursts had no place amongst the Vulcans' society...what remained if it. He was ill-equipped to handle it. And Romulan was a language with which he had no deep understanding. No, it was more Nyota's specialty. He dropped his gaze to his lap as he thought of her. He had no other words to offer as comfort. " _Mnean yytaera h'rau eihssliorae_."

They would be leaving as soon as the sun rose in the sky.

Valdore sat up and looked at Spock. His words were grave. " _Mnean iyhwe en fvheisn, ehludet en yy'ar. Emael en Rihanh rrhuieh temthech nnea Rhiyrh Nero, isahhae'edh nnea Lloann'mhrahel_." Not all of Romulus' citizens wanted to see their current emperor, Nero, destroy the Federation. It was a risk of lives they did not wish to pay.

Spock's eyes dropped. Yes, the destruction of the Federation. At the hands of this seemingly unstoppable Romulan. Vulcan. Earth. How much longer would it be before Nero decided to seek out another Federation planet? And which one would be next? Tellar Prime? Bolarus IX? No, Nero had to be stopped. No matter the price. Starfleet would not let this rest. They would return. He returned his gaze to Valdore, to Sarun. " _Mnean mnaer'ti llhnae. Mnean mnear'ti nnaen Nero_." He then uttered his first decidedly illogical words. A promise. A promise that Starfleet would return. " _Arhem culhas hwi_." (4)

Eventually, the ale was finished and the bread eaten. The Romulans stood and took their leave of the Federation members.

Sarun smiled at Nettles and Shranya. " _Bed aoi_." (5)

They nodded in farewell.

He then turned to Spock, who stood with his hands behind his back. Sarun raised his hand in the traditional Vulcan _ta'al_.

The movement surprised Spock. It had been years since he had seen anyone perform the action.

Sarun spoke in the words of Vulcan. " _Dif-tor heh smusma_."

Spock replied in kind, raising his right hand. " _Sochya eh dif_." (6)

Sarun smiled sadly at him then bowed slightly. Turning, he joined his son below.

With the Romulans gone, Spock settled himself back against the wall, his exhaustion threatening to consume him. He felt eyes on him.

It was Nettles. "How come a Vulcan like you, speaks Romulan and everything, ends up a mere mercenary soldier?"

Spock hesitated. It was not that he distrusted Nettles, but Vulcans were a private people. And the circumstances still stung and tormented him, when all it took was a swift second before his newly-founded happiness was ripped from his hands by an overzealous cadet. He lost control briefly and his breathing hitched.

Nettles immediately realized he stepped over the line of proper decorum. "Uh, you don't have to answer if you don't want."

"I was a Commander of Starfleet, preparing for my position as Chief Science Officer onboard the USS _Yorktown_. However, due to an incident that was grossly misinterpreted by a cadet, I was ordered to resign my commission or face a court martial. I chose the former."

Nettles gaped at him. "You're fucking shitting me."

"I am not. I resigned my commission and had expected never to return to Starfleet. However, due to the current situation, with Starfleet's numbers greatly depleted, I was allowed to return as a mercenary soldier to aid in the war against Nero's forces. Due to the previous incident, however, I was not allowed to retain my rank as Commander within Starfleet." Spock nothing further and closed his eyes, lost in thought.

**Fourteen Days Ago**

She saw him before he saw her.

Nyota felt awkward in her Andorian-style attire. She glanced down at it briefly, wishing she had had time to return home and change before meeting him. But she didn't. She had a difficult time with one of her charges, who had been calling desperately to his bond mate, not comprehending that she had died two years ago when Vulcan imploded. It broke her heart. Her dress was stained with the blue-green juice of a _kaasa_ plant, which had been thrown in frustration by the broken Vulcan.

Watching him now, she desperately wished she had some way of removing the stain.

Spock stood in the doorway of the nondescript café near the prestigious Andorian Academy. He had changed much since she last saw him. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at his thin form, his gaunt cheeks. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in his uniform. Not one of Starfleet science officers, like it should have been.

She squeezed her eyes closed and when she opened them again, the tears had retreated. But they threatened to return when she watched as he turned away from the café, as though he was about to leave. Her heart wrenched at the thought. She clutched the edge of the table tightly, her knuckles turning white, and watched.

He took a deep breath and then turned back around. His eyes scanned the room before finally landing on hers.

She slowly stood and they looked at one another from across the room for several moments, until the spell was broken when an elder Andorian man moved past Spock, forcing him to take a step back, to allow the man to past.

He slowly walked toward her. Then he finally spoke. "I apologize I am late. I had difficulty locating this establishment."

She gave a small nod. "Hello." Her gaze dropped and she looked around helplessly. Why was this so difficult?

He followed her lead. "Hello." His voice was calm, strong, despite his disheveled and tired appearance.

Their eyes met again.

"Shall we sit?" she suddenly spoke, motioning to the table. He followed her gestures. She had already ordered some Vulcan tea; this particular café on Andoria was one of the few such places that offered a variety of Vulcan and Earth teas. Such things were a scarce commodity, now that the two planets had been decimated by the nefarious Nero.

"Yes, of course." He pulled out her chair and she took a seat before he moved to his chair.

Nyota busied herself with the tea preparations, an act she had grown so comfortable doing when she was his assistant. She had always made sure she had placed his cup of tea on his desk before he arrived in the morning. It had become one of their customs. But now, after pouring him a cup, she hesitated, hand over the sugar bowl. "I'm...I'm sorry. I can't remember –"

Spock didn't hesitate in his reply. "Two. Thank you." He took no offense to her slip, just as she knew he wouldn't. She was thankful for that.

Nyota nodded jerkily and dropped two sugar cubes into his cup. He took it from her and picked up the spoon on the table and stirred his tea. His eyes rose to look around the café again, taking in the crowd. No one was paying them any mind.

Nyota reached out and placed a hand on his. It startled him slightly and he dropped his eyes to look at their hands. Slowly, he turned his hand over and linked fingers with hers. His eyes closed briefly and then he gently took his hand from hers.

"May I ask what it is you do here on Andoria? I noticed you are no longer wearing your Starfleet uniform, so I must conclude that it is not because the headquarters has been relocated here."

Her eyes dropped from him to her stained outfit. "No. I, uh, I'm not in Starfleet anymore."

His eyes widened in surprise before he managed to tap down his emotional response. "I must admit that I did not anticipate that."

She looked away. "I couldn't. Not afterwards." A moment of silence resided between them. She cleared her throat. "I'm here helping at the Shelter."

She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. He understood that she meant the shelter the Andorians helped establish to aid the broken Vulcans, those who had been irreparably shattered by the destruction of their home.

"You look the same, apart from the lack of Starfleet uniform, of course."

Nyota felt the back of her eyes burning with unshed tears. "I have to be back at the Shelter in thirty minutes."

He released a gasp, his Vulcan resolve slipping. "That's –" He broke off, his eyes closing and he focused on mastering his emotions.

She knew what he was going to say. It was awful, horrible, traumatic. And it was. It was every time she entered to see those once noble and proud Vulcans reduced to mere shells of themselves, crying out to their mates, their children that were no longer with them.

As she watched him fight to maintain that cold Vulcan façade, she could hear the two Andorian women behind them discussing matters of little importance. Their laughter bounced off the walls, amplified, and creating such a dissonance with the emotions weighing between Spock and her. It was grating. It was out of place.

"I am sorry." He opened his eyes and looked at her earnestly.

"Why?"

"It was I that has placed you in this situation. I forced my –"

"Spock, no. You didn't force anything on me. You know that. I've told you." She shook her head fiercely, grabbing his hand.

"Nyota, you do not...owe me anything." He, once again, removed his hand from hers.

She felt him slipping from her and was confused and hurt. "Didn't you read my letters? Had I been allowed to visit you, had they let me...I would have been there every day. Every day."

He had been sent to P'Jem, the Vulcan monastery, by orders of his father. She had been heartbroken she had learned of it. A place intended for peace and serenity, a place to gain enlightenment. A place Vulcans went to in order to partake in the ancient Vulcan rituals of _Kolinahr_ , to purge emotions. She couldn't imagine how much of a prison it must have felt to Spock, who, despite his great emphasis on logic, cultured his emotions within himself. It must have been so suffocating for him to have those rituals forced upon him by Vulcan monks who were detached to his plight, having undergone the rituals themselves.

His eyes closed. "Yes. But if all we have rests on a few moments in a darkened Starfleet office three years and six months ago, then I am not sure...I do not know if-" His control slipped again.

Nyota reached out and cupped his cheek gently with a hand. "Come back. Come back to me."

"I do not know if that will be possible, _k'diwa_. The Federation has been decimated. We are at war, fighting a battle I do not know if we can win."

She nodded sadly. "Just...just promise me you'll come back to me."

He leans into her touch, his eyes closing. He no longer cared that they were in sight of others. She felt his exhaustion through the tentative link. Her eyes shone bright with tears.

He walked her to the Shelter, grasping her hand tightly. On Vulcan, such displays of affection would have been regarded with cold consternation. But they were not on Vulcan; Vulcan no longer existed. And he tired of maintaining his emotionless disposition. He was simply tired.

They passed many Andorians and other species. Not one paid them any attention. Spock found it refreshing. To be here with her and not be judged. It was freeing. But it wouldn't last. He was due to fly out tomorrow. And she was due to work here.

"A friend of mine. She has a place up in the mountains. I haven't been to the mountains here yet, but I hear they're beautiful." She spoke when they arrived at the Shelter.

He refused to look at the building. He refused to be reminded.

"Yes." He had heard this too.

"She says we can use it the next time you're on leave. Large arches, gorgeous view."

The two lovers looked at each other. Suddenly, realizing their brief time was ending and no longer caring who saw or about propriety, Spock wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a deep kiss. She tangled her hands in his hair and drew him closer still. He felt the tell-tale signs of tears and she began to cry.

"Nyota," he breathed against her lips. He broke the kiss when he felt her slip something into the pocket on his uniform jacket.

She looked at him, finally letting her tears fall. "Something to think about when you're away."

"I love you." His voice was a whisper. He did not know what precisely possessed him to vocalize his emotions at that moment, but seeing how it affected her, how it seemed to fill her with a confidence he didn't realize was missing, made him glad that he did.

She gave him a teary smile, cupping his face with her hands. Leaning toward him, she gave him another final kiss before tearing herself away from his grasp. Without another word, she entered the tall foreboding building.

**Present Day**

Spock stood outside, watching as Romulus' sun rose high into the sky. His comrades still slept in the makeshift shelter behind him. He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out the battered holophoto Nyota had slipped in that day. He kept it with his small PADD that contained each and every letter she sent. He gazed at the photo. It held so much hope. Hope that when everything was over, when the battles were won, they could be together. That they could live their lives out peacefully.

He sighed slightly and returned it and the PADD to their pocket. Then, after glancing back to ensure no one was there, he pulled open the jacket and ran his hands across his chest to his solar plexus. A wound – the result of a phaser battle – stood green and angry against his pale skin. It was small, precise.

It did not appear to be too serious.

He pressed against it and suddenly struggled to contain a gasp of pain. A colorless liquid oozed from the small puncture.

It was worse than it appeared.

 **Translations:**

(1) "Hello?"  


(2) "Federation Starfleet?"  
"Yes."  
"We have something for you."  
"May I ask what?"

(3) "Put away your rifles!"  
"Put away yours first."  
"Wait! We have some food for you. Some bread..."  
"And some Romulan Ale!"

(4) "What are you doing here?"  
"When the retreat was ordered, the Land Army attacked and we were separated from our crew."  
"It is true. The Federation is retreating."  
"We leave at sunrise."  
"We fought all those years, lost all those dead. Not all Romulans desire Emperor Nero's reign, his destruction of the Federation."  
"We shall return. We shall remove Nero. I promise you,"

(5) "Goodbye forever."

(6) "Live long and prosper."  
"Peace and long life."


	8. Fragile Surface Cracks and Temperature Seeps

  
**CHAPTER EIGHT**   
**  
_Fragile Surface Cracks and Temperature Seeps_   
**

* * *

Spock sat on a fallen pillar, waiting for his comrades to awaken. He crossed his legs and rested his hands against his knees. He needed to meditate. He needed to control his breathing. He needed to speed up his healing.

The years, however, have taken their strain and his ability to reach the calm and serenity that had come so naturally before was weakened. He was only twenty-six years of age – twenty-six Earth years – but never before had he felt so aged. So tired.

There were Vulcans who had fallen into insanity after their world was destroyed, unable to deal with the overwhelming pain, the severance. Many had suffered greatly with the _P'pil'la'ai_. The eradication of a bond between two mates. Spock had escaped this torment because he was not bonded.

Some would say that was a blessing.

But there could be no blessing in this. This continually forced separation from Nyota. He had not wanted this.

He wanted to be bonded. He wanted to be bonded to her. If only to escape this crushing, devastating feeling of aloneness. He was promised that after this mission – this suicide mission – he would be allowed to leave, his debt having been repaid. To live his life as best he could. He only knew that he wanted to live his life with Nyota. It was difficult to imagine their life together with no place to call home. But Spock knew that he needed her.

She was his home.

However, as he sat here watching the sunrise, he knew there was a strong likelihood he would not see her again.

They had been attacked by Romulan soldiers thirty-two hours ago. Spock had been injured in the crossfire, protecting Shranya from enemy fire. He did not regret his decision to place himself in harm's way to save her – that was his duty – but he regretted...

He regretted several things. He regretted not standing against his father, against Kirk, against Starfleet when he had been faced with the charge that he had been unlawfully forcing his sexual will upon a student, that he had attacked her. If he had understood the full gravity of the accusations to which he had confessed...if he had stood against his father, he would not be where he was today. Spock would not be a mere nameless mercenary Starfleet needed only when they had suicide missions – they did not wish to risk their few officers – teamed with a murderer who felt no regret for her actions and a man who suffered from kleptomania.

He would be free to be with Nyota.

But it was illogical to dwell on the past. To dwell on things that could not be changed. It was a waste of valuable energy. Energy that he could not afford to waste.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved the small PADD on which he kept Nyota's letters. He powered the device on and flipped through the letters stored upon it, searching for her last letter. He opened it.

>  _My dearest Spock,_
> 
>  _Kirk has somehow found me and has tried contacting me via subspace. I have ignored his calls. I believe that he is beginning to understand his mistake and is trying to do penance. He wants to come and talk to me, but I cannot bring myself to speak to him. I love you, Spock. I will wait for your return. And then we can finally be together._

He often wondered how much longer she would be willing to wait for his return. She had claimed on several occasions, in several letters that she would always wait for him. But she was young. She was human. He was often sent on missions he did not know if he would return from. How much longer would she be willing to wait for a Vulcan who may never be returning?

He couldn't let himself think about this. No, he had to believe it would be possible. He would return to her. And they would be together. As they should have been.

He replied to her letter.

> _K'diwa,_
> 
>  _At the end of this war, I will return to you. Our story will resume. These are romantic words I have never envisioned myself writing. They are illogical. But I have found that logic rarely has a place in my love for you. I shall return to you. We shall meet at that small Andorian cabin. And our story can finally resume. I can once more become the Vulcan who had been eager that night, my letter to you in hand; the Vulcan who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the office. Our story can resume._
> 
>  _I will return to you. I will find you, love you, bond with you and we shall live without shame._

Spock looked at the letter again. Satisfied, he pressed the send button, knowing she would receive it. He returned the PADD to his pocket and pulled out the holophoto Nyota had given him on their first and last visit since his incarceration on the Vulcan monastery planet, P'Jem. The photograph showed more than just an Andorian home built in the lush mountains deep underneath the moon's surface. It showed a promise. A hope. A dream that when he completed this mission he will be allowed to meet her there. To live their lives.

It was a hope he clung to desperately.

He took a deep painful breath. The pain was increasing. There was nothing he could do for it. Typically he would meditate, force the pain into a tiny compartment inside of his mind only to be visited after the mission at hand was complete. But he could not even manage a single moment of meditation.

"Is that Andorian?"

Spock had such little control over his emotions that the feminine voice behind him startled him. He barely suppressed a jump, but she still saw.

"My apologies." Shranya approached and sat down beside him. She leaned in close to view the photograph. "The Andorian mountains?"

He nodded, returning the photo to his pocket. He took great care to not show her the extent of his injury. When he had received the wound, he had believed it to be superficial, not warranting anyone's great concern. However, he had been wrong. However, if he could garner enough time to properly meditate, to enter the healing trance, he would be well. He glanced at her briefly then returned his gaze to the Romulan sunrise ahead. "It is. It is also a photograph of hope."

She cocked her head at him, smiling. "Photograph of hope? I didn't think Vulcans could be so poetic."

Spock nodded in acquiescence. "Indeed, most are not. However, I am not most Vulcans."

"No, you're not."

They sat in silence for several moments. It appeared that Nettles had yet to wake and, while they needed to move out and head to the pickup point, it seemed, by unspoken arrangement, that they allowed him to get as much sleep as he needed.

Shranya spoke suddenly, her antennae pointing towards him. "Who's Nyota?"

Spock's eyes widened in surprise.. "Pardon me?"

She looked away, turning her head to look at the cityscape. "My apologies. I heard you. Last night. You were whispering that name."

Several more minutes passed before he answered. "Nyota gave me the photo. We are to rendezvous there after our mission is complete and we return to Andoria. I look forward to seeing her again."

"Is she your wife?"

Spock shook his head slowly. "She is not. However, I wish to make her so."

"I thought Vulcans bonded as children or something." Shranya looked at him, her eyes questioning.

"Typically, yes. However, Nyota is not a Vulcan. She is human."

The Andorian's eyes widened considerably. "Oh. Wow."

"Yes."

They fell into silence once more. Spock had no intention of detailing his relationship with Nyota any further. And Shranya appeared to understand that.

"We need to get moving." She changed the subject. "Need to get you home. I'll go wake Nettles up." She stood, dusting her pants off.

Spock remained where he was for several more minutes, attempting to control his breathing. The pain wormed its way into his consciousness and he struggled to force it back into its compartment.

It was a long walk back and he dreaded each step of the way.

* * *

They moved carefully and cautiously through the scorched Romulan _rreinnte_ orchard. They had escaped the city of Ra'tleihfi without incident, keeping to the alleyways and side streets. The city was reeling from a surprise attack from Tellarite battle cruisers, sweeping across the sky and firing down red beams of destruction. Spock wondered if the Tellarite ships were condoned by Starfleet or if it was the work of an independent force.

This war was violent and bloody. This was not the type of warfare that most Starfleet officers were accustomed to or trained for. But the time to fight amongst the stars, to fight cleanly was behind them. After Vulcan and Earth had been consumed by Emperor Nero's unimaginatively powerful weapon, Starfleet was no longer concerned with fighting fair, as it were. It was a time to fight dirty. Guerilla warfare returned to Starfleet and they fought viciously. They needed to. Every member of the Federation lived in constant fear of what would happen next, which planet would be next.

They did not have the technology to face Nero's weapon directly and, indeed, they had no idea _what_ they were even facing. So, Starfleet – what remained of it – concocted secret mission after secret mission in attempts to infiltrate Romulan capital city discretely. They knew, from their limited intelligence, that Nero was being harbored in the city. Indeed, most of the Romulan Empire applauded Nero's actions. They shielded him from Starfleet. Starfleet ordered a select few – mercenaries, expendables, including Spock's troop – to track Nero down and eliminate him.

However, they had no idea where to look and to be thrown into the middle of the intense battle, to be left with a single order – find and eliminate Nero – was overwhelming. But they did this without question. It was their duty to avenge their homes, to protect those still existing.

But they never found Nero. Only heard vague references to him, but no sightings, no locations. Nothing.

Nettles suddenly sat on the ground, panting heavily. "Where the fuck are we going?"

Spock suppressed a sigh. "We are headed for the pickup site. As you very well know, we have been separated from our troop, and, as per regulation, we are to continue towards the pickup site."

Nettles nodded with Spock's words, bobbing his head with each word, his hands running down his boots. With a cry of rage, he pulled his boots off and threw them into the distance. "I fucking hate those boots! I fucking hate them worse than all the fucking Romulans put together!"

Shranya sighed loudly and dramatically. "Nettles!"

Spock remained calm. "It will be quite difficult for you to walk the remaining twenty-two point three kilometers to Eilariv on your bare feet. The risk of injury is greatly heightened."

Nettles glared at him but said nothing. He massaged his feet instead.

Shranya took a seat next to him.

As it appeared the others had no intention of moving, Spock trudged through the trees, looking for Nettles' boots. He had thrown them in a westward direction, behind them, and Spock moved that way. He found the boots, somewhat hidden out of view of his comrades. He reached down and picked them up.

Standing upright, he felt a rush of vertigo and struggled to remain standing. He ran his free hand across his face, swiping the sweat from his forehead and closed his green-rimmed eyes.

The pain was increasing.

He struggled to take deep breaths.

When Spock opened his eyes, he scoured the ground around him. Approximately thirty feet in front, he noticed something that did not belong. The plants in this orchard were rigid, angular. What he saw was not.

He advanced a few steps.

There was a small clearing in the orchard and, in this clearing, he saw several Starfleet officers. Approximately thirty. They were all lined in neatly organized rows. They were dead. It was such an alarming and peculiar sight.

One body in particular caught his eye. A woman of African descent. Her long dark hair obscured her face. Her chest was a multitude of plasma burns. Her petite frame meticulously arranged, as though a child had postured her doll during play time.

* * *

**Four years, three months ago**

He woke slowly. He felt a calmness that he had not felt for several days. The fever had broken. The _Pon Farr_ was over.

Spock felt the bed shift and a feminine hand skirted across his abdomen and came to a rest on his chest. His hand hovered over hers. Should he take hers? Hold hers?

She moved closer to him unconsciously. She was still sleeping.

His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist and he pulled her to him carefully, finally taking her hand in his other one. He didn't want to wake her. He knew that he had been rough on her, overwhelmed by the blood fever, the _plak tow_ , that he didn't have control of his faculties, didn't have the ability to control himself. That alone was why he had been hesitant when she said she would do it, that she would help him. He had not wanted to intentionally put her in harm's way when he could avoid it. He could have attempted to meditate through the fever.

And he had been worried about their current relationship as mentor and student. This crossed that line. This was against the rules. And he had always been a stickler for the rules, especially when breaking said rules could result in court martial and removal from Starfleet.

But she had been adamant, determined to save him.

And he had been dying slowly.

She whispered quietly, her breath tickling the hair on his chest. "I love you."

He froze, holding his breath. He had not anticipated that. He had not calculated her emotional attachment to him in her decision to help him.

He realized he had been foolish.

Even though his budding emotions for her – feelings he was well aware of and tried to stifle – had played a part in his decision to inform her of his affliction, he had not even considered the possibility that she returned his affections.

But he could not allow it. Even if he himself felt the same.

He could not even be certain that her words were not the result of their unions. He could not be certain that her words were truly hers and hers alone. He did not think he could bear it if they were not.

He sat up abruptly, rattling her, waking her.

"Wha-?" she mumbled, sitting up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked at him. "Spock?"

He flung his legs over the side of the bed, turning his back to her. "I must thank you for your help. The fever has broken. You may leave now."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, but he forced himself to remain where he was.

Suddenly she was getting out of the bed. He heard her scramble around the room. He knew she was looking for her clothing. He said nothing when she emitted tiny gasps. He knew she was attempting to reign in her emotions.

He knew she was attempting not to cry, but he said nothing to comfort her.

She said nothing. She put her clothes back on and then was out the door.

She transferred the next day.

He often wondered what would have happened if he hadn't cruelly dismissed her as he did.

 **  
**

* * *

**  
**

**

Present Day

**

Spock moved forward, propelled by his illogical fear. Dropping harshly to his knees, ignoring his pain, he reached for her. Cradling her body gently in his arms, he reached for her hair. An inch from it, though, he hesitated. In the background, thirty yards away, he could hear Shranya and Nettles arguing. He did not know if he wanted to know. Was this her?

The logical part of his brain said no. It could not feasibly be possible. She was on Andoria. She was not a member of Starfleet any longer. But he was no longer living with just his logic alone. Over the past few years, Spock had succumbed to his emotions more and more. And holding this woman – this dead woman – she felt like Nyota.

He steeled himself and gently swept her hair back, revealing her face. He stared straight ahead, looking out at the orchard with its alien plants. Her face was revealed but he was too frightened to actually look.

He dropped his eyes to her.

It wasn't her.

Spock released a breath of air he was not even aware he was holding.

Of course, it wasn't her. He knew that it wasn't. He knew, but he had remained fearful that it was. He was running on that fear.

Gently, he placed the woman on the ground. He could do nothing for her. Or the others. Slowly rising to his feet, he bent his head downwards in respect. " _Tushnah nash-veh na'du_." (1) Then, he grabbed Nettles boots and returned to them.

They were still arguing when he returned from the clearing. Spock walked by Nettles and threw his boots at him, ignoring the man's indignant cry. He walked ten more feet before halting. He could not allow them to see him like this. Emotional. Human.

"Is everything all right?" Shranya's voice sounded behind him.

Spock nodded abruptly. "Yes. We must press forward. If we do not pick up speed, we will be left behind."

They did not argue. For this, he was thankful.

After their brief stop in the Romulan orchard, they proceeded forward with alacrity. Shranya and Spock remained quiet, choosing to focus their energies on moving towards their destination. Nettles, however, decided to continue as he generally did by speaking incessantly.

They walked alongside a river of which Spock could not remember the name. Its water black as night.

He was vaguely aware of Nettles ramblings as he trudged forward. Looking above, towards the bright blue sky, Spock saw various small fighter spacecraft from several of the Federation members. This filled him with hope. Though he and his comrades may have been unsuccessful in their mission, perhaps others were, or would be.

"Let's see ol' Nero come and have a go at us in fucking Orion, or, better still, Risa. No one speaks the fucking language out here. You can't say "Pass the biscuit" or "Where's me fucking phaser?" They just shrug. Because they all hate us too. I mean, that's the point. We fight here in fucking Romulus and the Romulans fucking hate us. Make me fucking Ambassador and I'll have this sorted out in a fucking minute. We got Andoria and Tellar Prime, right? Nero can have Romulus and Remus and whatever else he wants. Who's fucking ever been to P'Jem?"

Spock did not reply to that. He did not think Nettles was actually seeking an answer. He was merely rambling. It was best to just let him be.

"It's all about room. Empire. They want more empire? Give 'em that fucking shithole – P'Jem – and we'll keep ours, and Bob's your uncle and Fanny's your fucking aunt. Think about it."

Spock did not tell Nettles that he was grossly off the mark as to Nero's intentions. Truth be told, Spock did not fully understand Nero's intentions, himself. However, he did not believe it had anything to do with expanding his empire. That made little sense logically. If he wanted to expand, why did he destroy?

They walked up the steep hill slowly. Nettles cursed colorfully as they approached the apex.

Standing quietly on the hilltop, they stared down at their destination.

They stared down at _Eilariv_.

* * *

 **Translations:**

(1) I grieve for you.


	9. Spiraling into Madness Unstopping

  
**CHAPTER NINE**   
**  
_Spiraling into Madness, Unstopping_   
**

* * *

The site of Eilariv teased him as Spock stood on the hill overlooking it. It promised him his final destination: home. To Nyota, for she _was_ his home.

"Well, fuck me. We're finally fucking here." Nettles came up beside him, looking down below.

Spock cast his eyes at him but said nothing. There was nothing to say. He felt pain and struggled to rein in his gasp. He succeeded, but only just. A small wave of nausea rushed over him, but he was able to press it down.

Shranya stood beside him. "Would you look at that?"

Spock stared at the sight below. Eilariv was once a thriving village, well known for its exotic seafood cuisine. Now it was a shadow of itself. It had been decimated in this war. The Federation forces had all but flattened the small coastal village. The beaches were singed and littered with the remains of several of Starfleet's shuttlecrafts. Smoke still rose in places.

Spock shook his head. It was getting fuzzy. He was overwhelmed with the desire to escape, the knowledge that his obligations, his separation from Nyota were coming to an end. "We must descend." He set off at a run, climbing down the rocky hill. Behind him, he heard Shranya and Nettles laboring after him.

Eilariv was even more impressive once they arrived at ground level. Several units, several officers and soldiers, men and women, of all of alien races, were lined along the beachfront. Some were laughing and celebrating a successful mission. Others were mourning, tears rolling down their faces as they stared out at the Romulan Ocean.

Spock saw a Starfleet officer – a lieutenant – strolling across the beach, a PADD in his hand. The officer was flanked by two security officers, their red shirts startling against the brown of the beach. He deduced that the man was attempting to take a head count.

He approached him, with his comrades trailing. "Sir." His voice was neutral, impassive. Underneath, however, he felt ill; he felt pain. "We have just arrived. May you inform us what we are to do?"

The lieutenant observed him and the others. He looked at their tattered uniforms, their bedraggled appearances and sneered. "Nothing. Just wait."

Spock ran a hand across his sweaty forehead. "When will the shuttles arrive?"

The officer glared at the trio when he sighed and spoke. His words were laced with disdain, with derision. "There were a few here yesterday, but the Romulans blew them to hell." He sighed once more, heavily. "We lost several good officers."

Spock heard the tone of the man's voice and understood it for what it was. The lieutenant had disliked them on sight. He had taken in their mismatched non-Starfleet uniforms, their haggard appearances and deduced that they were mercenaries. The mercenary troops were often riddled with criminals, those that had been deemed too unworthy to participate in Starfleet.

Spock understood that hatred, but he refused to let it deter him. This man did not know him, did not know the circumstances in which Spock had fallen into the mercenaries' ranks. He needed to go back. To her. He needed to ensure that this man knew this. "I am expected to return."

The lieutenant scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You and everyone else, mercenary. So you'll just have to wait your turn." He looked Spock over, fully taking in his dirty appearance, his pale face. "Just be grateful you're not injured. Starfleet has ordered us to leave the wounded behind."

Spock's eyebrow shot upwards. "That is illogical. Why would Starfleet force the wounded to remain on Romulus, knowing it would mean certain death? Under whose command were those orders issued?"

The man sighed, irritated.

The security personnel beside him stepped forward, ready to act if necessary.

The lieutenant spoke, letting his true feelings known. "Look here, mercenary. The way I see it? Starfleet doesn't need the help of criminals to do its job. If I had it my way, we'd be leaving all of you trash here." He spit on the ground beside Spock.

Spock furrowed his brow.

Nettles stepped forward in an outrage, getting in the lieutenant's face. "Now look here, Lieutenant. Do you have any idea who you're talking to? That there is Commander fucking Spock! And you'd best show some fucking respect."

The two security officers removed their phasers from their holsters and aimed them at Nettles.

Spock pulled the man back, his hand on Nettles' shoulder. "That is unnecessary, Nettles. And incorrect. I am no longer an officer of Starfleet."

The lieutenant smiled coldly, though he said nothing.

Spock kept his gaze level with the hostile officer as he spoke to Nettles. "We must not intervene. We will return home."

He released Nettles and moved away from the lieutenant and his security officers, who slowly returned their phasers to their holsters. Spock sighed heavily, halting his steps. He keeled over slightly, attempting to catch his breath. When he slowly returned to an upright position, he looked down at his green-stained uniform jacket. It appeared that his injury had worsened. He assumed it was due to his overexertion when he descended the hill.

He looked up and noticed Nettles and Shranya staring at him.

He could not allow them to know the extent of his injury. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. His feet almost slipped out from under him, but he managed to catch himself before he collapsed.

"Are you okay?" There was a nervous edge to Shranya's voice.

Nettles circled Spock, stopping when he stood in front of him. "Yeah. You look like fucking death."

Spock wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. "I assure you, I am simply tired. I must meditate."

Nettles and Shranya initiated eye contact with one another.

"If you shall excuse me, I will endeavor to find a suitable location for meditation." He moved away from them, his eyes dancing around the beach. He brought one hand to his wound, covering it. He winced and wiped sweat from his brow once more.

He was growing increasingly disorientated and lightheaded. He looked out at the ocean, at the Romulan sun low in the sky. It was nearly nighttime.

He wandered the beach for several moments. He nearly tripped several times, but each time he managed to save himself.

" _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_." (1)

He stumbled to a halt, hearing the Vulcan words of affection. He tilted his head, trying to find the source. His wild eyes scanned those waiting on the beach. No one looked at him; no one paid him any mind.

His eyes slid closed and he swayed on his feet. " _K'hat'n'dlawa. Dungau-fun nash-veh. Dungau-nam teretuhr etek_." The words were spoken quietly, a whisper, a prayer that was quickly lost in the wind. (2)

He opened his eyes, shaking his head to clear it. He stumbled past fellow mercenaries, past Starfleet officers, toward the streets of Eilariv. Spock walked into the decimated village, gazing around, his eyes watery and rimmed with a sickening green.

Dead bodies lay in the streets, scorched from phaser fire. They mostly belonged to Romulan soldiers. Some were Federation.

His keen ears heard the sonic boom of small vessels above. He jerked his head skyward to look, nearly stumbling backward in the process.

They were Tellarite. Were they the same vessels they had seen earlier? Were they returning from a mission? Or heading for one?

Soon, he would be on a shuttle. He would be returning to her.

He stopped in a narrow Romulan street, looking around listlessly. He swayed on his feet, weakly catching himself on the wall of an abandoned dwelling, running a hand across his sweaty face.

Shranya came up behind him, holding a hand out. "Are you sure you're okay?" She had followed him, out of concern.

He didn't answer, but his eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of a woman, who stepped across shattered glass into an old shop. She turned to look at him.

His eyes widened and his interest was piqued. "Wait here," he mumbled to Shranya.

She sighed helplessly but did as he asked.

Spock stumbled his way toward the shop, toward _her._ He entered the shop, bracing himself against the frame of the broken window. He looked around the room. He was sweating, pale. He eyed a lit fire and teetered toward it.

"Why don't you sit?"

He spun around and lost his balance briefly. Spock managed to save himself from falling, his hand reaching out and bracing against a dusty counter. "Nyota?"

She smiled kindly, lovingly at him. "Spock."

"How are you here?"

She didn't answer but raised her hand, pointing behind him.

He followed her hand and moved slowly to the chair that was placed before the fireplace. He swayed on his feet before falling gratefully in the chair. "It is hot in here." He shivered.

She smiled and knelt before him. "You're tired."

Spock nodded. "Yes." He took a deep breath. "I am unequivocally, undeniably exhausted."

"Take off your boots."

He shook his head slightly, though he did just that, bending and shakily removing his worn boots. "I must return."

She smiled. "Yes."

"That is what I promised. I shall return and we will live our lives together." He pitched forward in the chair, towards her.

She reached out and gently caressed his face. "Yes. We'll be together again and will be able to put everything behind us."

He closed his green-rimmed eyes and leaned into her touch. "My Nyota. I have missed you."

She nodded slowly.

"You love me. You are waiting for me." He said these words without conceit. He knew the truth.

"Yes. And now, you must come back to me."

His eyes closed and his breathing labored.

A sudden loud explosion sounded outside, but he paid it no mind. It was not important. It was not.

"You are a hallucination, are you not?" Spock didn't know why he spoke these words. He needed her to be real. He needed her here. He needed her.

But she couldn't be real. Last time he saw her, it was on Andoria, where she was working with the broken Vulcans, trying to rehabilitate them, even if that was a losing battle.

"Am I?" Her voice was gentle. Comforting.

Spock said nothing. He leaned forward into her, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly, his knuckles whitening.

He just wanted to rest. His eyes closed and they remained so for several moments. Five point three minutes to be precise.

When he opened them, she was gone.

Spock felt the irrational pain of separation. An unfamiliar burning sensation in his throat and eyes irritated him. He took a deep breath in an attempt to center himself, but an insuppressible gasp of pain expelled the air from his lungs.

He slowly got to his feet, swayed and righted himself. And with considerable effort, Spock made his way back outside the building.

Shranya was waiting outside for him. She looked at him, at his bare feet with confusion, her antennae moving sporadically.

He said nothing to her as he passed. He needed to lie down.

"Wait!" she called out.

Spock slowed slightly and she caught up.

"Where are your boots?" She glanced back down at his feet.

He said nothing. Really, there must be a place to lie down. It was only logical for there to be some place to rest.

Shranya circled in front of him, halting his movements. "Spock? Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

He gave a jerky nod. "Yes."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

He continued forward, concentrating on his steps, on his destination. "It is only logical for the Romulans to have beds, is it not?"

Shranya looked at him, concern in her eyes. It was a peculiar sight. She was a murderer; she didn't regret her crimes, but she was looking at him with something akin to sorrow, to sympathy. She approached him slowly, coming to his side. She reached an arm out hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure it would be appropriate to touch him.

Typically, Spock would have shied away from it. But he was so tired. So exhausted. He did not flinch when her hand came to a rest on his forearm.

She stopped him gently and stood in front of him, her antennae directed at him, still. "Commander?"

Spock shook his head. "I am no longer a Commander. I have not been for four years. You would be wise to note that."

She sighed. "Spock."

He stepped around her, turning down a small street lined with rubble from the crumbling buildings above.

The Andorian female followed him. He heard her footsteps behind him, hesitant. He looked around, at the buildings, the bland buildings. This wasn't it. Where was it? "This is wrong. I do not..."

Shranya came closer to him. She motioned to an open door. "This'll do. Come here, Spock."

He shook his head. The motion caused him to lose his balance and he braced himself against the wall. Shranya grabbed his arm, attempting to catch him.

"No. It is not here. It is a little further on." He was adamant.

She cocked her head. "What is?" Her voice was quiet.

"The place. The place I am to meet her. She is waiting. Large arches. View of the Andorian mountains. I am told they are pleasing to the eye. She is waiting for me." He looked around the small side street. Heavy debris blocked his path and he was forced to climb it. He did so slowly and with great difficulty. His breathing labored extensively. His bare feet caught on the ragged edges, leaving green stains on the jagged slabs.

Shranya sighed heavily, halting slightly in her steps. She slowly placed both of her hands on him, one around his waist, the other on his arm. "Yes. I remember. You told me. You're absolutely right. We should take you there."

"Yes." Spock nodded. "It is close to here, is it not? I saw her eight minutes and fourteen seconds ago. She is waiting."

Shranya directed him through the open door. "We're here. You're right. It was close. This is it."

He nodded. "Yes."

She led him to a small bed inside the tiny dwelling. Wooden furniture littered the floor. Most of it had been shattered at some point during the battle at Eilariv. It looked as though the dwelling had once belonged to a carpenter.

Shranya pulled the dirty and singed sheets back and helped him remove his jacket.

Spock collapsed in the bed, unable to sustain his strength any longer.

"There. Take it easy, Commander," she whispered.

He shook my head. "I am not a Commander any longer."

She nodded. "Sorry." She draped the soiled sheets across his body.

Spock closed his eyes and turned his head to face the ceiling. However, when he opened his eyes, there was no ceiling. It had been destroyed. But he could see... The corners of his lips rose slightly. "The mountains. My Nyota. She was right. They're beautiful." He looked at Shranya. "They say that Vulcans cannot love. That we cannot feel. But we do. I do. I feel. I love her. I love her with a passion no human can understand. If they did, if they knew and understood how much Vulcans love, they never would have taken me away from her. Never. She is mine. And I am hers. And we are to be together soon. She is waiting." He slowly brought a finger to his lips. "Shh. She does not know I am finally returning to her. I wish to surprise her."

She was sitting on the ground beside him. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, her antennae drooping.

"Why are you crying?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I wanted to thank you. For saving me when you did. You didn't have to. You shouldn't have."

Spock's eyes closed once more and he shook his head. His breathing was ragged and he labored to take breaths. "Do not concern yourself with that, Shranya. I was merely doing my duty. I must meet someone. I must meet Nyota. She's waiting for me. I am always keeping her waiting."

Shranya smiled sadly. She reached out and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Now, you listen to me, Commander."

He tried to interrupt her. Correct her. He was not a commander. He had not been for four years. He must return to her. She is always waiting for him. But he was so tired. He merely nodded.

"You want to know what I heard? The shuttles are coming soon. We'll be off this forsaken planet before you know it. We'll be off. We'll be heading home. And you'll be able to see her."

Spock smiled. A small smile. A smile that a Vulcan would never have seen fit to make. But he was only half-Vulcan. He whispered to her, "Wake me before we embark, would you? Thank you, Shranya. I shall not speak another word."

He closed his eyes.

* * *

 **Translations:**

(1) I cherish thee.

(2) Half my mind, half my soul. I shall return. We shall be together.


	10. Cowardice of a Determined Man

  
**CHAPTER TEN**   
**  
_Cowardice of a determined Man_   
**

* * *

**Starfleet Headquarters, Andoria  
**   
**Twenty-one days earlier**

Starfleet, in the course of two disastrous years, had become much more militaristic than it had been. Men and women marched up and down the narrow corridors of the makeshift headquarters, a former government building the Andorians had given to Starfleet after Earth's destruction, in single file lines. There was no happiness, no laughing, and no joking. Only sorrow and hardness remained.

Nearly everyone had suffered great losses the day Nero arrived and began his attack upon the Federation for reasons that were still unknown. It had started with Vulcan. Survivors of the destroyed vessels that had been deployed to aid in the distress call – survivors of the _Enterprise_ – had watched helplessly on the cold icy terrain of Delta Vega as the planet above them, high in the sky, disintegrated before disappearing all together.

A few short hours later, Earth met the same grisly fate.

Kirk had changed that day. No longer was he the brash arrogant cadet who had everything to live for. And didn't believe in no-win scenarios.

He reached up and ran a finger across the long jagged scar across his right cheek. It was still fresh and he was still unused to it.

He followed the single file line of officers of various ranks, trailing behind the Admiral.

No, he ceased believing every situation was winnable long before Vulcan imploded. When he watched a sobbing Uhura close the door in his face four years ago, he stopped believing in no-win scenarios. She had never spoken to him again afterwards. And contrary to McCoy's insistence, she never came to understand that he was only trying to help her.

Instead, he had watched from afar as she sobbed in Gaila's arms, the Orion glaring at him over her friend's shoulder. He had watched her sit under the old willow tree, writing on a PADD every day. Sometimes, she'd be crying. But he had never dared approach her.

Her angry words, citing his jealousy of the situation, still rang in his head. Was he? Had he been? Had he desired her so intently that it had clouded his own interpretations of the scenes that had played out before him?

He didn't know.

And the former commander had never denied the accusations.

But he sometimes wondered...

He halted behind his companions when the Admiral came to a sudden stop.

She turned and faced them, her cold brown eyes hard. She had been promoted to admiral shortly after Earth's destruction that killed most of Starfleet's elite officers. She was relatively young but she took her job very seriously. Kirk knew she was a good admiral, a good leader. Before her promotion, she had served under Captain Pike as First Officer - a position that originally had been promised to Spock before his discharge.

Captain Pike was presumed dead and had been ever since that fateful day when he had been ordered to surrender himself to the _Narada_. That had been the last day anyone had seen him. The Admiral, Pike's Number One, found herself promoted on the battlefield. But she took the unforeseen promotion with a grace and efficiency that possibility saved most onboard.

Kirk still remembered vividly when Number One had ordered everyone to the escape pods just as Nero unleashed his relentless attack on the Enterprise, angered that Spock had not been onboard.

Kirk knew he owed her a great debt.

"We will be shipping out several small units to Romulus within a week's time. Their mission is of utmost secrecy and importance." The Admiral spoke with authority. She did not welcome interruption.

Kirk sighed softly and looked around the cool corridor. It still took him a while to adjust to the new headquarters whenever he arrived. He was still not used to it. He wondered briefly why he had even been ordered here. He wasn't a captain or a commanding officer. So, why was he here among lieutenant commanders, commanders and captains? He looked despondently at the back of the head of the officer in front of him.

He thought of Uhura often. He wondered if it would be possible for him to get in touch with her. Would she even want to talk to him? Or would she reject him outright?

He dropped his head, his eyes closing.

"Am I boring you, Lieutenant Kirk?"

He jerked his head up and looked at the Admiral. "No, ma'am."

She regarded him coldly, her eyes squinting slightly. "I want to see you in my office, Lieutenant." She looked at the other officers. "The rest of you are dismissed." She pivoted and headed further down the hall.

Kirk sighed bitterly and followed her.

* * *

When the door closed with a gentle swoosh, the Admiral turned to look at him. "Is Starfleet at all important to you, Lieutenant?"

Kirk's eyes widened at her question. Important? Why would she ask him that? "Of course, it is, Admiral. Very important." It was all he had left.

She looked at him, studying him intently.

He grew uneasy in her presence, shifting on his feet. He placed his hands behind his back, but quickly decided that was uncomfortable and awkward and dropped them to his sides.

"You violated an order issued by your captain during your last mission, did you not?"

Kirk's eyes widened and he steeled himself for the impending punishment. There was no reason to lie. She has obviously read the captain's report. "Yes, Admiral."

She crossed her arms. "Captain Hartway left many details out of his report. So I'm going to give you this rare opportunity to explain yourself. I suggest you take it."

Kirk took a deep breath. "Admiral, we received a distress call from a private vessel explaining that it was under attack and needed assistance."

She nodded slowly. "Continue."

"When we arrived, we found the ship was under attack by several Romulan Birds-of-Prey. They were losing life support quickly; their impulse drive was compromised. However, our ship had also been seriously damaged in a conflict with the Romulans earlier that day. Captain Hartway decided the risk was not worth it, and ordered the helm to turn back around."

"And you disagreed?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Explain."

"Ma'am, since the attacks by Nero and the Romulans began, each remaining member of Vulcan, of Earth, has become precious. The Federation's numbers are seriously depleted. If we have any hope of winning this war, we need every person we have. We cannot just let a group of Vulcans perish because it may be dangerous for us. We joined Starfleet knowing there was a potential risk involved. Just because that risk has now become certain, we cannot ignore our primary objective. To protect the Federation and its citizens. At all costs."

She nodded slowly.

He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back once more.

The Admiral moved to her desk and sat behind it, reaching across and turning on her terminal. "Captain Wesley needs a new First Officer onboard the _Lexington_. I'm promoting you to Commander and assigning you to him."

Kirk's eyes bulged. "But...why?" She just said it herself; he was guilty of disobeying direct orders.

Her eyes softened slightly and she sighed. "Because this war needs someone who still cares. And you do."

Kirk was silent for a moment. Did he still care? He didn't know, but she seemed confident that he did. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Kirk was still rattled with his sudden and unexpected promotion after he left Captain Wesley's office, where he had spent the past several hours in an attempt to become familiar with the man before they were due to depart within a week's time.

They were set to deploy several mercenary troops to Romulus. For some mission. He didn't know the details. He hadn't been allowed to know the details.

He sighed, roaming the halls. He still hated this place. He headed for the records office.

Opening the door, he was greeted by a friendly young Bolian female, seated behind a large counter. She was quite attractive with her blue skin and bald head.

"Good day, Commander. How may I help you?" She smiled politely.

He smiled in kind and leaned against the counter, behind her terminal. "Hi..."

"Alandra," she supplied, her eyes teasing.

"Alandra." He gave her a nod. "I'm hoping you'd be able to help me."

"That's what I'm here for."

"Can you tell me where an officer's been assigned?"

Alandra turned to her computer. "It would depend on if that information's been classified or not."

Kirk nodded. "Yeah, I realize that."

She smiled. "So who do you want me to look up?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, last I saw her, it was Lieutenant Uhura. First name still unknown."

The Bolian nodded and entered the information into the terminal. The computer chirped and pinged, as it parsed the databases.

"Okay. There's a Lieutenant Nyota Uhura who was assigned to the _Enterprise_ before it was destroyed. Is that who you're looking for?"

Kirk nodded. "That's the one. Where is she assigned now?"

Alandra pressed a few more buttons. "She's not assigned anywhere."

"What?" Did something happen to her? The thought put him on edge. "Is she..." He couldn't finish.

"Is she dead?" She looked for confirmation of his question.

He nodded slowly.

She looked at the screen again. "No. It says here that she resigned almost two years ago."

Kirk had not expected that. "Uh...do you have a forwarding address or something like that?"

Alandra sighed slowly. She looked around her carefully. "I don't think I'm really allowed to give you that information."

Kirk wasn't at all surprised by this. In fact, he had expected that answer when he asked. "I realize that. But, Alandra, I would really appreciate it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not..."

He leaned heavily against the counter, looking downwards. "Have you ever made a mistake that you wished you could change? That you dream of going back in time and taking back everything you said. Because you thought you were helping someone, when you were actually pushing them away. Have you ever made a mistake so great that it consumes you? That it controls you?"

The Bolian looked around, hesitant. She sighed sadly.

* * *

"Ow!" Kirk exclaimed.

"Don't be such an infant." McCoy berated his friend, removing the hypospray from Kirk's neck.

The newly-promoted Commander leaned back against the cold unforgiving surface of the biobed. He looked around the sickbay. It was cramped. Small. Dark. It wasn't something his friend liked – Bones preferred a brightly lit sickbay – but it was something they all had to make do with.

"Honestly, Jim. What the hell were you thinking? Sleeping with a Bolian." Bones shook his head in disbelief. He prepared another hypospray.

Kirk just sighed.

"Fatigue, joint inflammation. Nausea. These are all things first year cadets learn in interspecies anatomy. Their internal chemistry is corrosive. I hope to hell she was worth it." Bones applied another hypospray to Kirk's neck. "That's for the inflammation."

Kirk nodded.

"Well, was it?"

Kirk looked at him. "Was it what?"

Bones rolled his eyes. "Worth it?"

"You worry too much, Bones." Kirk sat up slowly. His stomach still felt weak, but it was slowly getting better.

McCoy scoffed. "Well, someone has to. You certainly don't. Going off on missions half-cocked. Disobeying direct orders. Seriously, Jim, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again. Seriously, Jim. What the hell are you doing?"

Kirk sighed. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't. Maybe, I think someone needs to care. We're in the middle of a war. And some of Starfleet's officials only seem to be concerned with winning that they're forgetting one important aspect. The citizens. The people who were also affected."

"Bullshit. That's not it, and you know it." Bones didn't believe him. "This is connected to that night four years ago, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever, Jim."

"You asked me if Alandra was worth it. Yeah. I got what I needed."

"And that was?"

Kirk held out a small PADD. "I found her."

"Who?"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Uhura. I got her address. She's here. She's on Andoria."

"Are you really sure you want to go down that road again? Haven't you fucked it up enough already?"

Kirk glared at him. "If I recall, it was you who told me she would come around. That she would see that I was only trying to help."

"Yeah, and I've also said a lot of other things. Don't you think it's time to put this behind you? She's gone. She's not going to come back and suddenly decide that you were trying to help her. I made a mistake, you made a mistake. And it cost you her."

Kirk sighed. "What if I try to fix it?"

"Fix it? And how are you going to do that?"

"I don't know. I'll think of something."

Bones sighed.

* * *

**Seven days later**

The _Lexington_ was due to depart tomorrow. But Kirk could not wait until his return to see Uhura. It took him a week to build up the courage to see her. He needed to go now. If he didn't, he would probably lose that courage when he returned.

If he returned.

For that was an unwelcomed and unpleasant reality. It was never for certain that he would return after each mission. And each mission seemed to grow more and more dangerous.

And this mission was probably one of the most dangerous of all. They were set to enter Romulan space, to take the battle to Romulus. Kirk didn't know what would happen there. He didn't know if they would succeed, if they would survive.

He approached the Shelter slowly. He'd been told by a helpful elderly Andorian female that this was where Nyota - Uhura - worked. It was a drab, depressing building. He knew it was good work, noble work she was attempting, but he couldn't help but wonder why. Why was she subjecting herself to the horrors, the sadness of the broken Vulcans? She belonged in space, making contact with new alien species, learning new and exciting languages.

But that was another life.

Kirk halted.

She stood at the entrance, wrapped in a tight embrace with him.

Spock.

Kirk wasn't sure what to do now. He had not anticipated the presence of the very Vulcan whose life he had fucked up so royally.

Spock drew her into a deep kiss, passion, desperation and despair evident in the way he held her.

Kirk was surprised by how much the former Commander had changed. He seemed paler, thinner. Spock had carried himself confidently at the Academy. Sure of himself. Now, he seemed...

There was a vulnerability to Spock that Kirk wasn't sure how to deal with. So he stood still.

The lovers – and Kirk could not deny that they loved each other as he watched them – parted and Uhura slipped something into Spock's jacket pocket. They spoke to each other quietly before she kissed him once more.

Spock and Kirk watched earnestly when she stepped away reluctantly from Spock and entered the dreadful building.

Kirk took a step forward then stopped. No. He did not think it was appropriate to approach the Vulcan.

Spock looked around, taking in the sights of the Andorians going about their daily business. His eyes scanned across the street.

Kirk felt his heart leap into his throat. He knew instantly when Spock spotted him.

Spock's eyes widened. He straightened himself and his mouth thinned. He took a step forward.

Kirk thought he was headed toward him. He panicked. He wasn't ready to talk to him. He didn't think he ever would be.

So, when an Andorian carrying a large cart passed by, Kirk took the advantage and slipped behind it and out of Spock's sight.


	11. Cries in the Abyss of Death

  
**CHAPTER ELEVEN**   
**  
_CRIES IN THE ABYSS OF DEATH_   
**

* * *

**Six Days Ago**

> _Uhura,_
> 
>  _Please don't delete this before reading it. I know that you're angry with me. Furious, even. I know that you probably hate me. But I have been concerned about you. I have learned you are no longer in Starfleet. I can't help but think that somehow I'm to blame. That my mistake cost Starfleet its finest communications officer._
> 
>  _I have been on the front line of this war, working hours and hours every day, determined to see it through the end. But no matter how often I work, no matter how hard, I can't help thinking of that night four years ago. I cannot escape what I did, what it meant. The full extent of which I am only beginning to realize._
> 
>  _Please, Nyota, I beg you. Can we please meet? Can we please talk about what I did?_

Uhura looked at the screen in disbelief. She had not seen Kirk in two years. Had not spoken to him in four. The idea that he would contact her now?

And how? How did he find her? Where did he learn of her location? She knew of no one who would tell him. Everyone was either dead or a victim of Kirk's actions as well.

The heartbreak of that day still haunted her. It pulled at her; it nearly destroyed her. And to see Spock before he shipped out once more? To see him a mere shade of the Vulcan he'd once been? That was perhaps the most wrenching thing.

They had been forcibly separated for four years.

He had once been the epitome of Vulcanity, of Vulcan grace, of Vulcan stateliness. He had been strong.

But the years had obviously drained him. His emotions surged to the surface, not a gentle current they had once been, but a tidal wave. It was wrecking his mind. She knew it. She saw it.

She wept for him.

Glaring at the screen once more, seeing the words from Kirk, she scowled.

No, she would not meet him. She couldn't. She didn't care if he was trying to amend.

It was too late.

She deleted the message.

* * *

**Present Day**

The war had been raging for two years. It felt longer. An eternity. An eternity since Nero invaded Vulcan space and the planet containing six billion unsuspecting souls was eradicated without a single bat of the eyes. Of course, Nero didn't stop there. Instead he continued forward, unrelenting, heading straight for Earth.

And Starfleet had been helpless. Worthless.

He had been worthless.

All Kirk, all they were able to do was huddle together on that frozen hellhole, Delta Vega, and wait to be rescued.

Now Vulcans and humans were endangered species and the rest of the Federation seemed destined to follow.

The force of the blow rattled the ship. The klaxon red alert pierced the air, accented by screams and phaser fire. Electrical explosions tore through the stations on the port side. Men and women, all good soldiers, were thrown by the blasts. When they landed, the burns were all the evidence Kirk needed to know their fate.

He had no time to mourn. He had a job to do. Get them the fuck out if here. Alive.

He and the crew were caught in the middle of an unwanted battle on the edge of Vulcan – former Vulcan – space. They had arrived to answer a distress call from a Vulcan civilian vessel. Only to end up in the middle of a battle. The Romulans, thanks to their leader – a leader that crossed from the future - were technologically superior to them in every way. It was still difficult to wrap his head around.

Starfleet simply didn't have the manpower, the resources to keep up. Nor the knowledge.

One step forward and five, ten steps back.

The Federation was fighting a losing war.

"Sulu, hard turn starboard! Let's see if we can't shake them," Kirk ordered, sitting awkwardly in the captain's chair. He looked on the ground to his right. Captain Robert Wesley lay dead on the floor.

Kirk was the Captain now.

"Aye, sir!" Sulu yelled over the cacophony of screaming and explosions.

Kirk swiped at the blood streaming down his face. He stared into the viewer, at the large Bird of Prey.

They had not expected the Romulan vessel when they arrived. They had not even seen or detected it. It had been cloaked.

Kirk slammed his hand on the intercom button on his armrest. "Scotty?"

"Aye, Cap'un?" The Scotsman voice was urgent, rushed.

A volley of phaser fire rattled the ship, sending the crew tumbling.

Kirk slowly righted himself. "Scotty, is everyone on board yet?"

Static erupted through the intercom.

Frantically, Kirk pressed the button again. "Scotty?"

"Aye, Cap'un. That's ever'one left!"

Kirk nodded needlessly, shutting off the intercom, and looked to Sulu. "Can you get us out of here?"

"That's what I'm trying to do, Captain!" Sulu quickly tapped on his console, pressing buttons at blazing speed.

Another shot hit the ship. The red alert ceased abruptly. Sparks flew from the communications station. The officer manning the station backed out of the way, rushing behind the science station. An electrical arc jumped from the communications station to the science station. The current sent shockwaves through the officers and they flew back.

Then, suddenly, the weapons fire ceased.

Silence flooded the bridge.

Slowly Sulu and Chekov turned in their seats to look at Kirk. He stared at them in return.

"What happened? Did you get away from them?" Kirk fired his questions. There was no time to rest.

Sulu slowly shook his head. "No. It wasn't me. I don't know what the hell just happened, sir."

Chekov turned around and pressed buttons on his console. "It's like they just disappeared, Keptin."

"You can't find them?"

"No, sir."

Kirk sighed shakily. This did not mean they were gone. They could still be out there. Cloaked. Waiting. Watching.

But they had no way of knowing.

He stood slowly, looking around the damaged bridge. Why were they spared? He closed his eyes, unable to gaze at the dead bodies of his officers. His former captain.

It was true that he had only known this captain for less than a month, but in the midst of battle, it became important to trust your superiors, your officers. It was paramount to survival in this cold harsh war.

Now, as the unintended captain, it was his job to learn the names of the dead and to inform the families, if the deceased still had any family.

He didn't want this job.

Kirk sighed. He felt helpless. He headed for the turbolift. "Sulu, you have the conn."

"Aye, sir."

He entered the lift.

* * *

Sickbay was an absolute cacophony of chaos. McCoy had his doctors and nurses running back and forth, to patient to patient, tending to their wounds, ensuring that they were healthy. One side of the bay consisted of injured Starfleet officers; the other side had the rescued Vulcans.

And it was there that Kirk found the irate doctor. He was arguing with a Vulcan loudly.

"This is _my_ sickbay! Don't you fucking tell me how to run it!" The doctor's face was red, his eyes dilated. He held his fists tightly at his sides.

The Vulcan, an older male with gray-peppered hair, stood stoically before him, speaking calmly. "In the midst of this crisis, it is only logical that the primary care is given to those most likely to survive."

Kirk's eyes widened, revealing his surprise. It was precisely that cold and analytical way of seeing things that prevented Bones from warming to the Vulcans. It was even off-putting to Kirk at times.

It was because of that coldness, that it was so easy to forget, to not realize that Vulcans did indeed have emotions.

"Now, listen here, you cold-blooded hobgoblin, you don't get to tell me who lives and who dies."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "It would appear that appealing to logic is the wrong path when discussing the issue with you. I apologize, Doctor." He bowed slightly and turned around, leaving the red-faced doctor. He moved to stand stolidly before an occupied biobed.

McCoy's eyes moved from the Vulcan to his friend. "Can you believe that guy?"

Kirk shook his head. "How do things look?"

McCoy sighed. "Most are superficial injuries. Those people will survive, of course. And I was able to treat most of more severely injured and they're currently resting. I believe most everyone will survive. Except -" He hesitated.

"Except what?" Kirk was curious.

McCoy sighed sadly. "I'm swamped in here. I need your help."

Kirk nodded. "Of course."

Bones nodded. He glanced at the Vulcan he had been arguing with, sighing. "As much as it pains me to admit it, he's right. We don't have enough medical supplies to help everyone. It's come down to...Well, it's come down to only saving those who can be saved."

Kirk sighed sadly.

The doctor led him to a partition. Parting it slightly, he turned to look at his friend. "The patient in here? I need you to sit with her. Hold her hand."

Kirk peered behind the blue curtains. His eyes widened and he hesitated. "I'm not - I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Bones motioned forcibly towards the patient. "I need your help, Jim. She _needs_ someone."

Kirk sighed.

"In you go."

Kirk slowly moved past the blue curtain and beside the small biobed.

A Vulcan female, severely injured, lay on the bed. Her eyes were closed; she was asleep.

Kirk glanced at the complicated machinery to which she was connected. None of the readings made sense to him. He hesitantly sat in the chair placed beside the bed.

He slowly reached for her hand.

"Here you are, at last."

Kirk looked down at their connected hands then to her face, confused. She did not speak; her eyes remained closed. Her statement wasn't vocalized, but he could still hear it, could feel it wash over him.

He kept his voice quiet, whispering. "The doctor. He told me to come here. To chat."

He felt a wave of amusement, a feeling that was not his.

She turned her head toward him, but her eyes remained closed. "That is illogical. It is illogical to waste our time with such mundane tasks as chatting."

Kirk couldn't suppress a small grin. "That's what I tried to tell him." He looked at her body, trying to categorize her injuries. They were too much. He squeezed his eyes closed, and when he opened them, returned his gaze to her face.

"You seem so familiar."

Kirk's eyes widened. He didn't understand. They had never met.

"Yes, I remember. I remember. She spoke of you. Through our melds."

"She?" Kirk's brows furrowed in confusion. He glanced behind the curtain, trying to find McCoy. He did not think...he didn't feel comfortable.

The Vulcan's hand tightened her grip on his. "Nyota. She is a most logical human, even if she allowed her emotions to control her actions often."

Kirk's eyes jerked back to her blank face, her closed eyes. "Nyota? Nyota Uhura?"

"Yes."

He felt her affection for Uhura through their connection, through their hands. "I must see her. I must extend my gratitude for her efforts." The woman took several gasping breaths. "Did she finally bond with the Vulcan for whom she expressed an affinity? I-" She broke off, coughing slightly. "I cannot - I cannot recall his name."

Kirk felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He dropped his gaze to their hands. "Spock. His name was Spock."

"Spock, yes. That is right."

"I don't know. I haven't seen her in two years." He took a deep breath. "What's your name?"

"T'Paan. You are -"

"Kirk."

"Kirk. That -" She broke off, a spasm of pain crossing her face. She tightened her grip on his hand, almost painfully so.

He watched her, concerned. He slowly rose to his feet, intent on calling McCoy into the room. But she pulled on his hand, preventing him from moving. He looked down at her.

"T'Paan?"

She gasped. Her eyes were finally opened, but they were unfocused.

Kirk felt fear and sorrow, intense crippling sorrow. It was not his.

"Selk. Selk. We must leave. We mustn't stay. Where are you?"

Kirk slowly sat back down, leaning toward her. "T'Paan?"

She shook her head. Tears seeped from her eyes. "I cannot feel him. He is gone. Selk is -" She broke off, gasping. Suddenly, her eyes met Kirk's. "Can you help me?"

Kirk nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"My mate, Selk. He is missing. Can you find him, please?" She looked away. "He would not come with me. He insisted on staying on the surface. But I cannot find him. He is nowhere. No. He is on Vulcan. Do you think you could find him?"

Kirk hesitated. "I...I can try, T'Paan."

Her eyes closed. "Thank you." She coughed, wetly. Green blood tinged her lips. "Can you stay?"

Kirk nodded and then spoke. "Yes."

Kirk was moved by her. By her confusion, her emotions.

Suddenly, she pulled him closer, knocking over a nearby tray in her desperation. He leaned in.

"I'm terrified, Kirk. I'm frightened." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Don't worry. I'll find him."

The commotion brought McCoy and a nurse to the bed. Bones pulled the curtain back and paused at the scene before him.

Kirk looked at his friend then back down at T'Paan.

Her eyes were closed. Her breathing had ceased. She was dead.

Slowly Kirk stood. His mind was unsettled. Rattled.

The nurse entered fully and respectfully covered T'Paan's face with a sheet.

"Are you alright?" McCoy asked, looking at the Captain.

Was he?

Kirk cleared his throat, looking away from her. "Yeah. I'm fine." He stepped around Bones and quickly left the sickbay, unnerved.

No, he wasn't.


	12. Two Lovers Framed in a Window

  
**CHAPTER TWELVE**   
**  
_Two Lovers Framed in a Window_   
**

* * *

Andoria was cold. Kirk shivered slightly, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He hated this moon and he hated the icy landscape. He'd only been back for two days. Only two days had passed since that tumultuous rescue mission. Only two days had passed since he held the hand of the dying Vulcan, listening to her fear, her cries. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it had left him more rattled than he thought possible. She had started as emotionless as any Vulcan he'd seen, but then she shattered, shaking him to his very core.

The moon of Andoria felt exactly as he did.

Cold. Frozen.

He walked down the narrow path, where he was told Uhura lived, where Alandra told him Uhura lived. He passed several Andorians, all of whom nodded respectively towards him, eyes filled with sadness. He responded in kind. It was tiring to deal with the various looks of pity he'd receive from some of the inhabitants of this moon. They meant well; he knew that. Everyone in the Federation had been shaken by the destruction of two of the most influential planets. Everyone meant well.

The path he followed eventually opened and the apartment stood before him, towering. He hesitated now that he was at his destination. He knew that she would not be glad to welcome him into her home. And he couldn't blame her. Not after how he royally fucked everything up through his well-meaning but misinformed intentions. He had never wished more than that moment for the ability to travel back in time, to reverse the mistakes he made.

But it was not possible.

And he needed to face her and face what he did. Let her know that he now understood.

He walked toward the door, passing an elderly Andorian woman.

"Are you looking for someone?"

He stopped and looked at her. She smiled kindly at him, her antennae twitching. "Uh, I'm looking for Nyota Uhura. I was told she lived here?"

The _zhen's_ smile grew wider and she exclaimed, "Oh, Miss Uhura. She's such a lovely human."

He nodded. "Yeah. She is. Do you know if she's in?"

She nodded, walking slowly to the door. "Uhura! There's a lovely man here to see you!" She yelled through the opened door.

Kirk blushed slightly.

A few moments passed and then she stood before him, dressed in only her short robes, the sash untied. Staring in shock, her jaw dropped and her eyes wide. "My God."

Kirk looked down at his feet, shuffling nervously. "I, uh, I tried sending you letters through subspace, but you'd never responded. I needed to talk to you. So I came here."

Uhura didn't respond, just turned around and entered her apartment. She left the door opened and Kirk took that as a sign that he was welcomed, however begrudgingly. Several old-fashioned paper-bound books – rarities now – lined the bookcases, in several different languages, in both human and alien. Small works of art adorned the plain walls. It was clean and well-kept. The apartment was exactly as he'd imagine it would for her.

He followed her into the small kitchenette, where she busied herself with making tea, setting the kettle on the stove. He leaned against the counter, watching nervously. She sighed and turned to look at him, studying him.

"So, you're a Captain now?"

Kirk's eyes fell to his golden uniform, pristine and clean, as though he'd forgotten about it. "Yeah." He replied slowly. He was still unaccustomed to being referred to as a captain.

There was a long stretch of unbearably awkward silence.

The kettle suddenly went off, startling Kirk, and Uhura rushed to it quickly, eager to have something to do.

She opened the cabinet door and took out some cups – three, Kirk noticed – and set them on the counter. Barely glancing at Kirk, she asked, "Want some tea?"

"Uh. Yeah. Okay."

She gave a nod and poured him a cup.

Suddenly, after taking the cup from her, Kirk spoke abruptly. "I want to change my evidence, Nyota."

"Don't call me that!" Uhura exclaimed. She turned away from him, leaning heavily against the counter. "Please, don't ever call me that." Her words were a whisper, a plea. He was not allowed to use it.

Kirk cleared his throat, his nerves threatening to overtake him. "I don't expect you to forgive me. What I did was terrible."

Uhura snorted, shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry. I won't." She headed into the living area of her apartment. Not looking at him, she continued. "They'll never reopen the case. How can they? It's in the past. Where Earth is. Where Vulcan is."

"Well, I can at least tell the Admirals. I'll return to headquarters and I'll tell –"

Uhura whirled around to face him. "So what's stopping you? Oh, that's right. They're dead now. Just like everyone else."

Kirk's gaze dropped. He didn't like this bitter version of Uhura. He wanted to see her effervescent personality, like at the Academy. But, things were different. Everyone was different. Including her. He knew that. He just didn't like it. "I wanted to see you first."

Uhura rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, the bedroom door slid open and Spock stood in front of Kirk and Uhura, wearing his uniform trousers. His shirt had been removed and there was a large bandage taped over the wound on his solar plexus.

Kirk was surprised at how different he looked, how much more tired and thin he seemed. Only two weeks had passed since he had last seen the Vulcan sharing a tender moment with Uhura.

Uhura immediately moved to Spock, standing in front of him and obscuring his view of Kirk.

As he watched them exchange quiet words, Kirk was thankful for the reprieve, no matter how small it might be. He had not anticipated that Spock would be here, as well. Last he heard, the Vulcan had been deployed in some kind of secret suicide mission on Romulus.

"Pardon me," Spock spoke softly. He nodded to Kirk, though he did not seem to look at him directly, and then he returned to the bedroom.

Awkward silence blanketed the room. Kirk watched Uhura watch the closed bedroom door.

"He sleeps so deeply," she said suddenly.

Kirk said nothing but just stood in front of the small coffee table, his nerves tingling.

Uhura's gaze shifted from the door to him and she waited.

For what, he didn't know. For him to say something? But he had no idea what to say. Eventually, she gave a soft sigh and moved back to the kitchenette. Kirk heard her milling around the kitchenette, cleaning dishes, taking food out of stasis.

Finally, the bedroom door opened again and Kirk darted as far away from it as he could. Spock's eyes finally landed on him for the first time and the Vulcan halted his movements, his fingers poised on the buttons of his shirt.

Kirk couldn't hold his gaze, his eyes dancing across the room.

Spock did not address him. Instead, he moved to the kitchen area and spoke to Uhura. "What is he doing here?"

Uhura moved to the doorway, leaning against the wall. "He came to speak to me."

Spock stood erect, placing his hands behind his back – a stance Kirk remembered painfully well from the Academy. "Indeed." Spock spoke slowly.

Kirk couldn't read his facial expression, as it was still so carefully blank. It frustrated him and made him anxious.

Spock looked at him. "He wishes to speak to you about what, I wonder?"

Kirk cleared his throat. He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. Spock and Uhura simply stood side by side, watching him. This was not how he imagined this. "That thing I did."

For the first time since he'd known Spock, Kirk saw the first sign of emotion flicker across the Vulcan's face. Spock's jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. It was clear to Kirk that he was furious, barely containing it.

Spock stepped closer, his hands dropping to his sides, clenched in fists. "If I may be completely honest with you, I find myself at odds. I am torn between breaking your neck here and throwing you out the window."

Kirk took a deep breath and shaky breath but refused to let Spock's words frighten him.

Spock continued to stalk toward him and Kirk realized he was standing before a volatile Vulcan.

"Have you any idea what it's like to be forced into a ritual to erase your emotions against your will? Because you dared to love? Because some fool cadet misinterpreted your actions for violence? Of course you do not. Did you find pleasure in my banishment from Starfleet, from my people, my family?"

Kirk's eyes dropped. "No."

"But you did nothing."

He shook his head. "No."

"Did you think I assaulted Nyota?"

"No – yes. I don't know."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "You don't know? And what has made you certain now?"

"Growing up."

Both brows inched upwards and Kirk realized Spock was looking at him in disbelief. "Growing up?"

Kirk's eyes darted around the room. "I was a cadet."

"A cadet? How does this excuse your actions?"

"I don't know." His arms waved around helplessly. "I didn't know much about Vulcans. I..."

"You are a member of Starfleet, are you not? A captain, judging from you uniform. How can a member of Starfleet – then a star cadet – purport to not know about Vulcans, one of the founding races of the Federation, the race that initiated First Contact with _your_ race?"

Kirk took a deep breath, his eyes darting to Uhura, who only looked at Spock. "I...I have no excuse."

Spock's voice was cold. "Precisely. There is no excuse when the information is so readily at hand. This only leads me to conclude that your actions were the result of jealousy."

Kirk opened his mouth, set to protest, even though Spock's words had a ring of truth to them. Even if only slightly.

"I was well aware of your regards for Nyota. I was also aware of her repeated protests, of which you ignored. I can only assume that it was your jealousy that led to your inclination to lie to Captain Pike, to Admiral Barnett, my father of my behavior, my intentions regarding Miss Uhura."

"But you didn't protest. You just went along with it. I thought you _did_ do it when you didn't argue."

Spock shook his head, visibly upset. "How could you think that I had been capable of what you accused me? It goes against the very nature of a Vulcan. I would have never forced my will or my body -" He broke off, his eyes closing tightly.

Uhura slowly approached Spock, pulling him away from Kirk, closer to the kitchenette. "Spock, don't. Please, look at me, Spock. Look at me."

Spock met her gaze and she smiled sadly, bringing his face to hers and kissing his face gently, lingering on his lips.

Kirk felt uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. He looked elsewhere, feeling as though he were intruding on a private moment. He moved to the window and looked out, gazing at the cold Andorian Mountains in the far distance. He heard soft murmuring from Spock and Uhura but couldn't make out their words.

"Kirk." Uhura's voice was calm, collected.

He turned slowly, facing them.

Uhura stood slightly in front of Spock - Shielding him? - and held his hand tightly in hers.

Kirk's gaze lingered briefly on their joined hands before he brought his eyes upwards to meet hers.

"There isn't a lot of time. Spock has to report to duty at 1800 hours. So, sit down. There are a few things you're going to do for us. If you're serious about repenting."

Kirk nodded emphatically. "I am. I just want to make everything right." He sat down on the sofa, next to Uhura, who tightened the sash of her robe around her waist.

Spock chose to remain standing, his hands behind his back, looming over Kirk. "You shall return to Starfleet headquarters. Once there, you are to speak to the remaining admirals. You are to tell them you wish to retract your accusation and tell them everything you must to convince them your evidence was false. You will tell them you wish to inform them the correct version of events."

"Yes, sir. I will do that." Kirk looked at Uhura.

She scrutinized him studiously.

Spock gave a quick nod. "However, despite this, it is highly unlikely that I will be reinstated, nor do I wish to be, because I _did_ commit an infraction."

"Then why -"

"This next mission for Starfleet is set to be my last. I wish to return to Nyota, bond with her, and live the rest of our lives without shame. Without the stigma of rape looming over my head. Only you can ensure that will happen. When you have done all of this, you are to inform Miss Uhura via subspace. Afterwards, we do not wish to see you again. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Kirk looked from Spock to Uhura then back to Spock. He waited to see if Spock would say anything else, but he didn't. He didn't like the idea of never seeing Uhura again, of never seeing her smile again, but he had to respect their wishes. Even if it pained him to do it.

Spock moved to the window and looked out, studying the Andorians below.

Kirk got to his feet slowly. Directing his words to Spock, he looked at Uhura. "I'm very, very sorry for the distress I've caused. So sorry."

Spock turned to look at him. "Do what I have asked of you. That will be all."

"I will. I promise." He quickly left, his breath shaky.

When he exited and returned to the street, he turned and looked at Uhura's window for what he knew would be the last time.

Spock and Uhura stood in the window, locked in a tender embrace. She brought her hands to his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. Spock wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, bringing her closer to him. His hands moved to the sash of her robes, which he deftly untied and the robes fell open, revealing her body to him.

Uhura wrapped her legs around Spock's waist, dropping her arms briefly to her sides, allowing the robes to fall to the ground. She was nude underneath.

Kirk watched them, his eyes wide, for several moments, before he felt himself grow warm. He dropped his eyes, embarrassed and ashamed to have watched them at such a moment.

Quickly, he turned away from the window and set off the way he came, heading for Starfleet headquarters.


	13. The Truth from a Heartbroken Man

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
**   
**  
_THE TRUTH FROM A HEARTBROKEN MAN_   
**

* * *

**Forty Years Later**

"Your memories. Something has tainted them. Altered them."

Kirk's eyes slowly opened and he gasped deeply. The shapes before him were fuzzy, slowly coalescing into clear and definitive shapes. The form before him remained still, his face coming into focus, his dark eyes revealing his concern.

"What?" Kirk asked quietly. He closed his eyes and opened them. He still felt out of sorts, still affected. It was disorienting.

The ancient Vulcan sat back in his chair, bringing his hands down to rest on his lap. He tilted his head toward Kirk; his pointed brows arched gracefully. "Your memories, Jim. I asked to see your memories. Those are not. They are fabrications."

Kirk's eyes dropped. His cheeks reddened. The tell-tale burn behind his eyes threatened. He had not contemplated this Vulcan to be able to discern that. He had underestimated him.

"Jim?"

Kirk looked at Spock. Ambassador Spock. A Vulcan from another universe. A Vulcan that arrived at the same time as the crazed Romulan, Nero. A Vulcan from the future whom Kirk had dismissed as senile at their first meeting on Delta Vega over forty years ago, when he had spun a tale of Kirk and Spock's – this timeline's Spock – mutual need for one another. Kirk had not been able to believe how he and the younger Spock were destined for great friendship. It might have been true for Ambassador Spock, but it was unfeasible in this universe.

But through the years, a friendship that might have been unfeasible for Kirk and the younger Spock proved possible for Kirk and the elder Spock. Kirk had grown to respect the Vulcan. And maybe, just maybe, Kirk was seeking some sort of forgiveness in befriending the elder Vulcan.

Kirk reached up and ran a hand through his subtly graying hair. He sighed, looking out the window, at the Cliffs of Bole. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"My memories. They're fake." He felt shame once more. He had never wanted this. He had never wanted him to think differently of him.

"Why? Why have you fabricated such events in your own mind?" Confusion marred the aged and etched face of Spock.

Kirk gave a harsh laugh and a tear escaped its confines and ran down his cheek. He swiped at it angrily, getting to his feet. Pacing, he looked at the Ambassador. He had never told this Spock what happened with the younger Vulcan, with Uhura. He had been afraid of judgment, of anger. He has not been able to tell him, because he had been too scared. And tonight, the ancient Vulcan had asked if they could meld, fearing he was nearing the end of his time and wanting to feel what Kirk felt, to know what Kirk knew. Kirk was unable to say no to him. He had not thought of the consequences.

"You know, I had made up that story in my mind so long ago, and told it so many times that I ended up believing it." Kirk laughed bitterly.

Spock stood slowly and approached him, his steps steady despite his great age. "Jim. What is the truth?"

Kirk shook his head. He couldn't. His eyes closed and he fought the onslaught of tears. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Not ever.

He jumped slightly when he felt Spock's warm hand upon his shoulder.

"Jim?"

Kirk opened his eyes, gazing at him. "I...I don't know if I can do this right now." He headed for the door, opening it and exiting into the bitter cold of Bolarus IX. Why did every planet seem so cold?

Standing on the porch, Kirk wrapped his arms around his torso. He took a deep breath and exhaled, watching his breath exit his mouth and form into a wispy cloud of condensation before dissipating.

He stood there for several moments. A burning sensation aggravated the back of his throat and tears stung his eyes. He hadn't allowed himself to think about the truth for so many years. And now...it was time.

It was time to stop running.

Kirk glanced back at the closed door. He knew the Vulcan wouldn't follow him outside. Spock would grant him his privacy, allow him to collect his thoughts. He wouldn't force Kirk to reveal anything he wasn't ready to reveal.

He had been surprised when the ancient Ambassador asked to meld with him, to share memories. Kirk had been confused. And he had shared that confusion. Spock had been willing to explain why.

Ambassador Spock was dying. This is what he had told Kirk. His ancient body was slowing down; his time was coming to an end.

Intellectually, Kirk knew this. Spock was nearly two hundred years old. But Kirk was not prepared for the pain the revelation had revealed. Soon, he would be all alone. All his other friends – Bones, Sulu, Chekov – they had all given up and moved on.

Was he ready to be alone?

He took a breath and sighed. It wouldn't do to postpone this any longer. He turned around and returned to the building, to Ambassador Spock.

The Vulcan was where he had left him, standing still, eyes closed in repose.

Kirk stood quietly before him, waiting.

Spock opened his eyes. "Are you well, my friend?"

Kirk nodded. "You wanted the truth?"

Spock nodded. "Of course. But only if you are able, are prepared to give it to me. I do not wish to place any undue distress on you."

Kirk waved his hand dismissively. "It's okay. I'm ready." He took a breath and sat on the empty chair before Spock. "The truth? The truth is I was too much of a coward to go see Uhura that day. I never confessed to them. I never went to the headquarters and told them the true story. I never -" He broke off with a harsh gasp. His battle against his tears was waning. A couple more escaped.

"The truth is that event could never have happened."

* * *

 _Shranya watched eagerly as the shuttles touched down on the sand eight hours after she had led Spock to the bed in the dwelling to go to sleep. She allowed herself a small smile. She was so tired; they were all tired. And it was finally time to go home._

 _He would want to know._

 _She turned to Nettles, who had sat on the sand beside her, massaging his feet. "I'm going to go tell Spock, okay?"_

 _He nodded wordlessly. He got to his feet and gathered his meager belongings._

 _She stood and moved toward the small home in which Spock had taken up shelter._

 _She knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Spock?"_

 _He didn't answer._

 _She sighed slightly and entered._

 _He was still on the bed, his eyes closed._

 _"Spock?" She approached him. "It's time to leave. The shuttles are here."_

 _He didn't respond._

 _She quickened her approach. Kneeling down before him, she reached a hand out but hesitated. Immediately, tears gathered in her eyes._

 _He lay on the bed, eyes closed, face relaxed. The holophoto of the small Andorian shelter in the mountains was clasped tightly in his hand resting on his chest._

 _He wasn't breathing._

 _She gasped loudly, placing her hand on his, feeling the coldness seep into her flesh. Tears fell from her face unchecked._

 _Her eyes fell on a PADD that had fallen to the floor. She reached down and picked it up. It was his, containing each and every letter his Nyota had written._

 _Gently, Shranya placed it in his jacket pocket. A gentle pat on his chest, a brush against his forehead, and she whispered. "Goodbye, my friend."_

 _  
_

* * *

_  
_

"Spock never made it back from his last mission. He died of his wounds on the last day."

The Ambassador nodded slowly, accepting. He walked back to his chair and gently sat down. "And Uhura?"

Kirk sighed. Tears fell from his eyes. "I was never able to put things right with her."

* * *

 _Her cries were harsh. Soul-wrenching. Heartbreaking. She leaned against the cold hard wall of a closet, her knees to her chest. She sobbed into her hands, unable to stop the tears._

 _The PADD lay abandoned on the floor across from her, its screen cracked._

 _She couldn't read it, couldn't look at it. She knew what it said, the words forever engrained in her mind._

S'chn T'gai Spock, formerly of Vulcan.

 _One name among the many, the hundreds, the thousands, who had perished in the war against Nero and Romulus._

 _One name among many._

 _But it tore at her soul, at her heart, more so than any of the others. Than the names of former friends, former colleagues._

 _A casualty of war._

 _She swiped at her face futilely, trying to rid herself of the tears. But they fell too quickly. She sucked in a huge breath of air before sobbing into her hands once more._

 _He was gone. He was not coming back._

 _He promised her._

 _She sobbed, clutching the PADD bearing his final letter tightly to her chest._

 _Their story would not resume. They would not bond._

 _Their story was over before it ever truly began._

 _Her breathing hitched painfully, but she was unable to stop her tears. Burying her face in her arms, she continued to sob._

 _A loud explosion followed by loud desperate screams eventually pulled her out of her pain._

 _Uhura raised her head slowly, looking up at the transom. But she could not see anything. She stood, her tears still streaming down her face, and walked to the door._

 _When she opened it, it revealed a stream of panicked doctors, nurses. Everyone was running outside._

 _She followed._

 _It was louder outside, the noises echoing loudly in her ears._

 _She brought her PADD closer to her chest. She didn't want to lose it in the wayward crowd._

 _A cacophony of screams threatened to drown her._

 _Nyota glanced around listlessly, as if she wasn't quite aware of where she was. And perhaps she truly wasn't, so overcome with grief as she was._

 _A nearby scream alerted her._

 _She turned her head to look at the Andorian male who had cried out. He pointed to some place in the distance before turning and running._

 _Her eyes trailed toward the direction he was pointing._

 _She stared at the fiery pillar of light in the distance. It roared, sending up massive amounts of dirt, water._

 _She closed her eyes, her tears finally slowing._

 _  
_

* * *

_  
_

"Because she was killed when Nero destroyed Andoria one week after Spock's death." Kirk squeezed his eyes shut.

Spock's eyes closed and he touched his fingers together, posed in contemplation.

"So Uhura and Spock never had the time together they both longed for and deserved, which...ever since...I've...I've always felt like I prevented it. It was my fault. I...I rushed to action; I let my feelings for her, my jealousy of him cloud my judgment. And I robbed them of their happiness." He slowly walked to the window and looked out, scowling at the landscape of Bolarus IX. He couldn't find peace in the rolling hills in the distance, the majestic cliffs that this region was famous for. So much had been lost. So much had been sacrificed.

Eventually, and without much fanfare, the attacks from Nero ended. There had not been one since that fateful day when the Andorian moon was destroyed. No one knew what exactly happened to the grief-stricken Romulan. Many assumed the opposing Romulans eradicated him.

But without a body, without confirmation, the United Federation of Planets - the remaining planets - lived in constant fear that another attack was imminent.

It was draining and Kirk felt older than his sixty-some-odd years. He felt ancient.

And despite all this, all this devastation, Kirk still thought often of that night in a quiet office where two lovers were torn apart by the jealousy, the assumptions of an insecure cadet.

Ambassador Spock approached him slowly from behind.

Kirk took a shaky breath. "When I realized what I had done, what I had stolen from them...I wanted to make it right. But it was too late. They were gone. So, I imagined a different ending for them. I imagined myself having the courage to face up to my mistake, to fix it.

"I imagined giving them their happiness."


End file.
